


Notes on the Pharmacodynamics of Iratio sapiens

by Mavet



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate Atlantis: Legacy Series - Various Authors
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, But I borrow elements from the Legacy series, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fun with insect anatomy!, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Interspecies, Interspecies Sex, John and Todd talk about stuff a lot, John may be in the airforce but he swears like he’s in the navy, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not technically part of the Legacy series canon, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Prostate Massage, Season 5 AU, Sharing Body Heat, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Wraith are bad at wound care, Xenophilia, Zoologist Writes About Alien Biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mavet/pseuds/Mavet
Summary: John Sheppard never thought he’d be imprisoned once, let alone twice, with the same Wraith. But he and Todd have been stuck in this scenario before, so escaping together the second time should be easy, right? Meanwhile, their captors have sinister plans that may force human and Wraith to rely on each other more closely than they ever have.Thus begins our heroes' arduous fight for freedom, their subsequent journey back home, and the beginning of an alliance that will alter the Pegasus Galaxy.
Relationships: John Sheppard/Todd the Wraith
Comments: 330
Kudos: 420





	1. We Are All Just Prisoners Here

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Записки по фармакодинамике Iratio sapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269384) by [who_cares_stuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_cares_stuff/pseuds/who_cares_stuff)



> Special thanks to bagheerita for her encouragement and guidance, as well as for being the most excellent of beta readers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story begins during the second half of Season 5, sometime between 5.13 "Inquisition" and 5.14 "The Prodigal," and is essentially AU after that point.
> 
> Thanks to bagheerita for being my beta-reader and all around cheerleader on this project, and for helping to inspire me to actually start writing again. You rock my socks.

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard comes to as he’s being manhandled underground. At first, the sensory information is all jumbled — a mix of murmurs and echoes, the smell of rust and mildew — but as the grogginess dissipates, he registers the strain on his arms and he stumbles as he feels for his feet. His captors are dragging him through a long, dimly-lit hallway full of windowless doors, and finally he’s regained enough coordination to walk, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to make it easy for the bastards.

At the end of the corridor is a dungeon filled with barred cells, and John realizes if he’s going to escape, he’d better do it now. He kicks hard against the ground to throw his captors off balance, and tries to wrench his arms free, but he’s one guy against four, and a swift kick to his knee has him reeling. He notices the men dragging him are wearing Genii uniforms that have certainly seen better days.

“The hell is going on?” John growls. “There must be some mistake — we have an alliance with the Genii!”

“Then it is a good thing the Genii government does not know of this place,” a voice says, and as he’s dragged from the corridor into the dungeon, John recognizes Shiana, the Coalition arbiter from their farce of a ‘trial’. Behind her is another Genii man quietly taking in the proceedings. He’s of average build, not especially tall — the kind of man who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, though his shrewd expression reminds John eerily of Ladon Radim. He assesses John and then immediately disregards him, instead inspecting the folder of documents in his hands. John notices he carries a Genii-issue firearm and a stun device that resembles a cattle-prod, before his attention shifts back to Shiana.

“Not happy with the verdict, were you?” John quips as his captors shove him to the ground before her. His injured knee throbs from the impact. “What do you want?”

“I want justice for my people! For my _family_ ,” Shiana cries. Her eyes glisten in anger as she stares down at Sheppard.

“Look,” John starts, and he’s honestly not sure anything he can say will appease her, given how determined she’d been to paint Atlantis as ultimately culpable. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for what the Replicators did, but they were supposed to attack the Wraith, not human planets. They did that on their own. I promise you, we’ve destroyed them. They’re gone for good now.”

“That won’t bring back my husband. My children.”

John sighs. “No, but neither will anything you do to me.”

“Maybe not.” Shiana’s lip curls, though her expression is no less resolved. “But I will have my satisfaction.” She motions to the Genii and John is immediately hoisted to his feet. “Feed him to the Wraith.”

“Wait, _what — ?”_

But John is already being dragged halfway down the row of cells before he can wrench an arm free. He’s able to elbow one of his guards in the jaw, but the other three keep hold of him and before he knows it he’s being shoved into the last cell in the row, the iron bars slamming shut behind him. He lands hard on his shoulder, grunting as the wind is knocked out of him, and then scrambles madly backwards as a tall shadow appears over him. A thrill of panic runs through Sheppard before he looks up past yards of black leather and wild, white hair to spy a pale, angular face sporting a familiar starburst tattoo around its owners’ left eye.

“ _Todd?_ ”

“Sheppard,” the Wraith Commander drawls in his deep, rasping voice. “We really must stop meeting like this.” There is a faint hint of amusement in his expression, which John takes as a good sign, as he’s not entirely sure where he stands with Todd after the embittered incident with the Attero device.

Their attention is drawn to the hallway then, as Shiana’s footsteps come to a halt in front of their cell. She seems to be waiting for something. Todd’s eyes flick past Shiana to the nondescript Genii soldier with the folder under his arm who trails behind her, and the Wraith bares his teeth in a silent snarl.

“Well?” Shiana looks at Todd, but he’s still as a statue, and John really hopes Todd’s not hungry because he’s essentially at the mercy of the Wraith’s appetite. John’s weapons and gear were all stripped from him, most likely while he was unconscious, and he’s all too aware that in his unarmed state Todd could easily wipe the floor with him. At least they left him his jacket; he thinks there might be a power bar in one of the pockets.

“Wraith, I have brought you this criminal from Atlantis to feed on. If anyone is deserving of such a fate, it is he.”

John rolls his eyes at being labelled a ‘criminal’, which he’s sure Todd notices as the Wraith glances at him again before addressing Shiana.

“Perhaps I do not find him… appealing,” Todd says coldly.

John can’t help but feel faintly insulted, and wow, _that’s_ a disturbing thought.

Shiana seems to be at a loss for words — clearly this is a turn of events she hadn’t anticipated. She glares at John as if to imply this is all his fault, and then turns to the soldier behind her and despite all Shiana’s theatrics, John’s pretty sure it’s actually this guy who’s running the show.

The soldier steps forward and narrows his eyes at Todd. When he speaks, it’s to Shiana, though his eyes never stray from the Wraith. “If it won’t feed, we’ll simply proceed with our timeline and allow the experiment to continue as planned. I’m sure as we progress, its hunger will result in your desired outcome.”

Shiana doesn’t seem very pleased with this proposal, but she nods and storms out with a huff. Her guards and the Genii soldier follow after her, and then John is alone with Todd in their cell.

* * *

“Oh, what the _fuck_ ,” John groans, leveraging himself to his feet, despite his knee. “Experiments? That’s all kinds of not-cool.” He sets about examining the structure of their cell, testing the strength of the bars, the door and hinge construction, anything that he can exploit to escape.

“I do not think you are their intended subject, Sheppard.” Todd’s gaze tracks John’s movements around the cell, but the Wraith himself remains still.

“Yeah, that just makes it all fine then.” He can’t see the lock mechanism from inside, and the bars are just narrow enough that he can’t fit his head through to see from the other side, but when he skims the outer face with his fingers, he feels a keyhole that he thinks might fit a sort of skeleton key.

“Sheppard, you are wasting your time. I have been here nearly a week already and have not found any exploit. Do not risk injuring yourself further.”

John sighs and thunks his head against the bars in defeat. He hadn’t thought he was favouring his knee that much, although trust a predator to notice any perceptible weakness.

“Well, I don’t know what else to do, then,” John says, slamming the bars in irritation. He shuffles past Todd and sits against the back wall of the cell, one arm propped against his good knee. “If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

Todd sweeps over to sit a few feet from Sheppard, long legs stretched out to cross at the ankle. “We wait,” he rumbles, “and hope for an opportunity we can seize.”

“I’m not good at sitting and waiting.” John sighs. “Patience was never my virtue.”

Todd snorts. “Then it is good that I have patience enough for both of us.”

“Mm.” John glances speculatively at Todd. The Wraith’s eyes are closed, his head tilted back against the wall. He looks serene, though John is fully aware of how deadly he can be. If John is the princess awaiting rescue in this story, then Todd is the dragon trapped in the tower with him. “You — you’re really not going to eat me? I mean, I’m happy to be less than appetizing, but I’d just rather _know_ than be constantly waiting for this to all go south, you know?” John can’t seem to fucking help himself. He knows he should just shut up rather than risk accidentally provoking Todd, but he’s irritated and on edge, and the fact that the Wraith is being as non-confrontational as he is, considering their last encounter, is frankly wigging John the hell out.

Todd’s eyes snap open and his head swivels to face Sheppard. For a moment, he simply stares, and John doesn’t think he’s merely imagined those slitted pupils widening. “John Sheppard, you are the most _delicious_ human I have ever had the pleasure to feed upon.”

John’s mouth goes dry and he swallows reflexively.

“However, I have named you ‘ _brother’_ and thus, on my honour, I will not take your life.”

John doesn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. “Okay, that’s uh, good, I guess. I just wasn’t really sure where we stood after the whole Daedalus thing.”

Todd makes an aggravated sound deep in his throat. “I… admit I may have acted rashly in assuming your people’s involvement with the Attero device,” he growls. “I was understandably upset over the loss of my crew and my ships. As none of your people were harmed, I am hoping we can both put the incident behind us.”

“Right. Yeah, sure thing.” John has just enough sense not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he purposefully _doesn’t_ mention the fact that Todd had nearly rammed the Daedalus and her crew into the lab housing the device. He gets being pissed off at losing people, though.

John thinks Colonel Caldwell and Richard Woolsey may be less willing to excuse Todd’s recent actions, but he’ll worry about trying to mend bridges after he’s free of this dungeon. For now, he leans back against the prison wall, closes his eyes, and sleeps.

* * *

The dungeon is cold. Not freezing, but cold enough that John wakes up shivering. At some point in the night he’d ended up on his side, and he’s since curled himself into the fetal position to conserve body heat. It helps, but not enough. He looks up and is momentarily startled to see Todd peering down at him, the tapetum lucidum in the Wraith’s retinas glowing eerily in the gloom. Todd tilts his head, and John watches his facial pits flare.

“You are not as warm as you should be.”

“Yeah, well, this place is a far cry from the Ritz, let me tell you.”

“The Ritz?”

“Never mind.” And then, because he figures he’s got nothing better to do, and doing _something_ will take his mind off his pained and shivering body, “It’s the name of a famous hotel back on my planet. Kind of like an inn, I guess, but with all the amenities. Super fancy.”

“Ah.”

John realizes Todd doesn’t seem to be shivering at all. “The cold doesn’t bother you?”

“My internal body temperature is lower than yours.”

“Lucky.” He figures that makes sense, given that the Wraith are essentially a strange amalgamation of human and insect characteristics. John sits up, if only to have less of himself in contact with the floor. He’s understandably surprised when Todd spreads his arm out in a beckoning gesture.

“Sheppard, come here.”

John only hesitates briefly before deciding the Wraith’s body can’t be less comfortable than the dank cell floor, and Todd’s already had every opportunity to feed on him, but hasn’t. Sheppard sidles over to lean tentatively against Todd. “Thanks,” he says, as Todd’s arm wraps around him, bringing him flush with the Commander’s larger torso. The Wraith has a faint aroma of petrichor about him, which John decides is not unpleasant as he rests his head against a leather-clad shoulder.

Todd is certainly warmer than the dungeon floor, a fact for which Sheppard is grateful, though he can’t help thinking Todd’s still getting the greater benefit. “You’re just using me for my body heat, aren’t you?” His tone is mild, and he both hears and feels Todd chuckle.

“Ah, it appears you’ve sussed out my ingenious plan. Whatever shall I do?”

John grins. “At least Kolya could afford his heating bill.” He feels Todd stiffen at the mention of his former jailor. “He’s dead, by the way. I finally shot the bastard.”

“Good,” Todd says with feeling. “I am glad to hear it.” He relaxes again.

“I figured you would be. How’d you end up stuck here anyway?”

“My Hive had detected a distress beacon on the surface of a planet. I went to investigate, and somehow my dart was shot down before I could pinpoint the beacon’s location.” John notes a distinct air of irritation in Todd’s voice. “I was injured in the crash, but I was able to feed on one of the humans and heal before the others overran my position. They managed to stun me, and then I woke up here.”

“Sounds like somebody set a trap.”

“Indeed,” Todd growls in his multi-tonal voice. This time, when John shivers, it has nothing to do with the temperature.

***

“And you?” Todd rumbles after a long while. “How did you come to be here, Sheppard?”

John pauses for a moment, organizing events in his head. “I think I was drugged,” he begins, slowly. “I remember… we’d heard talk about something we hoped might be a ZPM, and my team went to investigate, but I don’t actually remember being separated or stunned or captured.” The more he thinks about it, the more the details — or lack thereof — unsettle him. “I have no idea whether my team was captured too, or if it was just me? I can’t remember the last thing we were doing, either; it’s just a blur.” Not knowing what happened to him is unnerving enough, but John _really_ wishes he could be sure his team are all safe and not similarly imprisoned elsewhere. “Yeah, I must have been drugged. Nothing else makes sense. I think I’d remember being stunned, and if I’d been knocked out my head would have hurt when I woke up…”

“Do sedative agents commonly result in memory impairment in humans?” Todd seems legitimately curious.

“No, but…” There’s a cold feeling in John’s chest then as something occurs to him. He tries to take stock of his body, how he feels, if there’s any soreness or pain anywhere other than in his knee.

“What is it that you are so disturbed by?” Todd asks, and Sheppard realizes the Wraith is staring at him intently with — concern? Is that what concern looks like on Wraith features?

“How —” And John suddenly remembers Wraith are _telepathic._ “Are you reading my mind? Get out of my head!” He’s about to shove himself away from Todd, but Todd’s arm tightens around him.

“ _Peace_ , Sheppard. I cannot enter your mind unless you expressly invite me, though you are projecting your emotions quite strongly. I am unable to avoid them.”

“Oh. Sorry.” John relaxes again, somewhat chagrinned.

“What is it that has disturbed you so?”

“There’s a drug on my planet,” Sheppard begins, and as the words leave his mouth he has the most surreal feeling. Like this was not something he’d expected to have to deal with in the Pegasus Galaxy, with all the other inherent hazards to his health, but the more he thinks about it the more he’s just _angry_ and _tired_ and _sad_ , and altogether disappointed in his species. “Some men — _bad_ men — like to use it to force themselves on women. I mean, I guess sometimes on other men too, but usually women? It’s a sedative, but it also fucks with the victim’s memory so they don’t remember what happened. Anyway, that’s what I was reminded of, considering I don’t remember being abducted.”

He glances at Todd and the Wraith seems faintly unsettled. John can’t blame him.

“Yeah, I know. We’re a fucked up species.”

Todd hums noncommittally. “You are well, otherwise?”

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m really just hoping Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon are okay. Given that they’re not also here, I’d like to believe that’s the case.”

“That seems to be a reasonable assessment.”

“I’m also hoping they’ve figured out what happened and are on their way to rescue me as we speak.”

“Yes, your people do not leave each other behind.”

John smiles. He’d certainly impressed as much upon Todd during their initial encounter. “What about you? Any underlings on their way to save their Commander?”

Todd huffs in what Sheppard thinks is amusement. “I am unsure. My Hive would have difficulty tracking my whereabouts once I had been taken through the Stargate. Multiple gates would further compound the issue, which is what I would suspect to have occurred.”

John knows Rodney’s expressed a similar sentiment on multiple occasions, though usually with more colourful language.

“Oh, hey, don’t you have one of those sub-space transmitters?” John asks eagerly. “I know we’ve tracked you down that way before — if my people pick up your signal, they’ll definitely come to investigate.”

“I usually do, but it was damaged in the crash,” Todd says wryly. “Unfortunately, I do not have all of the necessary components required to construct a second.”

“Well crap.” Sheppard’s head thunks back down onto Todd’s shoulder in temporary defeat. Then a thought occurs to him. “What parts are you missing, exactly?”

“A power source,” Todd says after a moment’s consideration. “And a connective medium for the charge. Why?”

“Just wondering if we might be able to find what you need, assuming we can get out of here, somehow. Though, being ‘rescued’ by a Wraith hive isn’t necessarily much of an improvement, from where I’m standing.”

“You are in fact sitting, Sheppard.”

Sheppard groans. “That’s terrible,” he grumbles, but Todd just laughs.

“I would not allow any harm to come to you, Sheppard,” Todd says seriously, a moment later.

“Well, first we have to find a way out of here, and _then_ get the parts you need.” Sheppard sighs. “Assuming there’s no Stargate nearby on this planet,” he adds. “But, thanks.”

The only acknowledgement he gets from Todd is a hum.“Sleep, Sheppard. You must conserve your strength.”

John sighs. “Yeah. Okay.” He realizes he’s stopped shivering at some point, pressed along Todd’s side, and at the very least, he’s grateful for that.


	2. Didn't Know What Time It Was and the Lights Were Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Todd's awkward morning after their first night sharing a cell, and then things get progressively worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and/or left kudos! I can't believe how positive a response this has gotten so far. You guys are awesome and thank you so much for your feedback!
> 
> Much thanks to bagheerita for being an awesome and exceedingly helpful beta!

John Sheppard is fairly certain that if anyone ever told him he’d spend a night curled up against a Wraith, he’d have recommended that said person was in desperate need of a psych eval. Though he must admit he’s had many substantially worse nights than the one he’s just spent sharing body heat with the Wraith Commander. As he wakes and lifts his head groggily from Todd’s shoulder, his empty stomach _growls_. With a sigh, Sheppard fumbles through his jacket and sure enough, there is one power bar stashed in his left inner pocket. He’d suspected as much and is glad he’d saved it from the previous day.

John realizes Todd is watching him and he’s suddenly uneasy at the thought of eating in front of the Wraith. Todd has already promised he won’t feed on Sheppard, and it seems somehow discourteous for Sheppard to sate his own hunger while the Wraith abstains from sating his own. His stomach gurgles loudly again and John’s face flushes in irritation.

“If you are hungry, you should eat, Sheppard,” Todd says archly. He laughs, but then his expression turns kind. “Do not deprive yourself on my account.”

John unwraps the power bar, but he feels Todd’s gaze on him still, and looks over in exasperation. “Well, don’t watch me then. It’s… weird.”

Todd chuckles, but he turns his attention away from Sheppard.

John is suddenly very glad that his own food is incapable of speech.

He eats the power bar mechanically — it’s chocolate, one of the better flavours, not that John gets much enjoyment from it — and though he’s still hungry, he decides to save half for later, wrapping it back up and returning it to his pocket.

Sheppard sighs and stretches his legs out, testing his bad knee. It aches less than it had the previous day, and though John is feeling restless, he figures it’s best if he keeps his weight off of it for as long as possible.

There are no windows anywhere in the dungeon and no natural light; only the ever-present dim of the yellow-tinged bulbs overhead. Sheppard has no way to accurately measure the passage of time, but he runs a hand absently over his jaw and it feels like maybe a day’s growth of stubble at most. He’s unreasonably irritated that the bastards took his watch.

“You said you’ve been here a week?” he asks Todd. “How can you tell one day from the next?”

Todd tilts his head in consideration. “We do not have day and night cycles aboard our ships, though we subdivide time into shifts,” he begins. “Most Wraith spend the majority of their lives space-bound, when not in hibernation, so perhaps we are more able to quantify time in the absence of a discrete solar cycle.”

“Huh.” John knows he’s always welcomed the return to Atlantis after spending any length of time aboard the Daedalus. He never sleeps well aboard a ship and he suspects it has something to do with the artificial light affecting his bodily rhythms. He communicates this to Todd, who nods.

“Your species is young, and your people are new to interstellar travel. Wraith are also more naturally suited to lowlight conditions, given that we are not specifically diurnal, which I suspect has benefitted our ease of adaptation to a space-faring lifestyle.”

“Hm. Being diurnal didn’t seem to stop the Ancients, though.”

“No,” Todd agrees. He gazes intently at John, though his next words are tentative. “May I ask a favour of you?”

“You can _ask_ , yeah.”

Todd grins. “Tell me of your world? I may be the only Wraith to have ever set foot there, yet all I was permitted to see was a dead underground facility. I would hear more if you would tell me.”

John smirks wryly. “Well I’m not going to tell you how to get there.”

Todd laughs. “Sheppard, I would worry if you _did_.”

“I dunno, how do I sum up an entire planet? We have deserts and rainforests and oceans and glaciers. Big cities and beaches and theme parks.”

“What is it you miss most?” Todd tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “Speak, Sheppard. I would hear your voice,” he prompts again, when the man doesn’t immediately respond.

“Hmm…” John thinks for a moment. There are certainly foods he misses from back on Earth that are either difficult or impossible to keep Atlantis supplied with, but he’s not keen on discussing the subject of food with a Wraith. “Probably Ferris wheels. Definitely roller coasters.”

“What is a ‘roller coaster’?”

“It’s a ride at an amusement park,” Sheppard explains with a laugh. “You speed around on a track that drops you hundreds of feet in the air and spins you around upside down.”

Todd looks somewhat dubious.

“It’s fun,” Sheppard insists. “I guess it’s kinda stupid, considering I get to fly around in spaceships that can go way faster than any roller coaster, but you don’t get the same adrenaline rush from pulling Gs with inertial dampeners.”

“Ah.” Todd’s grin is as sharp as his teeth. “You enjoy the exhilaration.”

“Why do you think I joined the military and became a pilot?” Sheppard’s smile fades slightly as he considers. “I kinda miss going to the beach, maybe? I know Atlantis is on the ocean, but sometimes I just want to lie on the hot sand and soak up the sun.” From Todd’s expression, Sheppard suspects Wraith are not likely sun-worshippers.

“I dunno,” John continues. “I don’t tend to spend much time missing Earth, honestly. Last time I was there I just remember wanting to get back to Atlantis as soon as possible.” His next words are soft as he stares into the middle distance. “Earth stopped being home for me a long time ago.”

“Your friends will come for you. Then you will return,” Todd assures him, so unlike the initial skepticism he displayed in Kolya’s prison when Sheppard refused to give up any hope of rescue. “Your Dr. McKay is… tenacious. He will think of something.” John has the distinct impression that Todd is being polite and that there are many _other_ words he would use to describe Rodney, were he not censuring himself for John’s benefit.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

John zones out for a while, just staring into space and wondering what Rodney might be up to in his lab. He knows Ronon is likely frustrated and wanting something to shoot, and Teyla is probably the one providing the voice of reason. He wonders if Todd has anyone he cares for as much as John does for his team.

“I bet you miss your Hive.”

Todd tilts his head as if he had not expected this sentiment from Sheppard. “Of course.” He pauses, and then seems to arrive at a decision. “For Wraith, it is always…” he searches for a word, “disturbing… to not feel the minds of ones’ brethren nearby. I, perhaps more than most, have grown accustomed to this over my recent history, but it is still…” He blinks slowly. “I do not like it. At times I have perhaps sought comfort from the brush of what human minds I am able to sense, though as I cannot truly connect with them it is not the same.”

Sheppard takes a moment to digest this. “Unless they invite you in.”

“Yes.” As an afterthought he adds “We are not made to be alone.”

That’s suddenly got John thinking about the ethics of solitary confinement, and what the Geneva Conventions have to say on the matter, but Todd’s head jerks sharply towards the end of the hallway and he murmurs hurriedly “Someone approaches.”

Sure enough, not a minute later another batch of Genii guards comes marching down towards their cell along with Shiana, the unknown officer John saw yesterday, and a nebbish looking man in a lab coat who carries a long sort of briefcase. John notices the Genii officer is carrying a long, narrow-barrelled rifle, and that the guards are unfolding a table and three chairs between them, and he doesn’t think anything about this will end well for himself or Todd.

The scientist lays his case on the table and spreads it open, taking out a notebook and making several annotations, and John can just barely make out what looks to be hundreds of darts of various liquids from where he’s seated on the cell floor. He glances warily at Todd, and for a moment their eyes meet, an unspoken understanding between them.

Shiana takes it upon herself to approach the cell, eyes narrowing instantly at John. “I had not thought even Atlantis could stoop so low as to harbour Wraith worshippers,” she all but spits at him. “You should be embarrassed to have lasted this long, though rest assured, I will see you dried to a husk soon enough.”

John rolls his eyes but Todd gives a full-throated, almost musical laugh. “John Sheppard, a _Wraith worshipper?_ If _only!_ ” He’s clearly the only one amused at the idea, though John is always in favour of needling his captors, or in this case of Todd doing the needling on behalf of both of them.

Shiana frowns, then takes a moment to regain her composure and her mouth twists cruelly. “Have I introduced you to Commander Varan?” She motions to the Genii officer. “He and his associate — Solen, is it?”

The man in the lab coat startles. “Ah, yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, yes,” Shiana continues. “They have a wonderful little experiment planned and were all too happy to help me capture a Wraith for my own purposes, so long as they could make use of him afterwards.”

Todd bares his teeth in a snarl.

Commander Varan chooses that moment to elaborate. His voice is an oily drawl that sets John’s teeth on edge. “You see, Colonel, as I’m sure you’re aware, it’s infinitely easier to kill Wraith if you’re first able to properly incapacitate them.” He flashes a grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We intend to investigate the — what was it you said, Solen?”

“Pharmacodynamics,” Solen mutters, preoccupied with organizing his materials.

“Yes, the pharmacodynamics of various substances on Wraith physiology.”

“You’re talking about torture,” John says darkly.

Varan’s grin slips. “I’m talking about the survival of the humans of this galaxy, Colonel. We are at war, and if our survival depends on our willingness to do things that would otherwise be… distasteful, then I am happy to bear that burden so others do not.”

“And if you _didn’t_ have to?” John asks pointedly.

“What do you mean?” Varan narrows his eyes in suspicion.

John pauses. “We have a gene therapy. A medical treatment designed to allow Wraith to survive on solid food instead of human lives.”

“You have this treatment presently available?” Varan asks, skeptical.

“Not yet,” John admits. “But we’re close.” He glances at Todd, but the Wraith seems disinclined to shift his attention off of Commander Varan.

“A gene therapy? How does it work?” Solen suddenly interrupts. His hands are wrapped around the cell bars, and he looks intently at Sheppard, fascinated.

“I couldn’t tell you. I’m not a doctor, so not really my area, but I once got accidentally dosed with an early version that turned me partway into an Iratus bug, so trust me when I say the stuff is effective.”

At that, Todd’s attention snaps to Sheppard, and he can’t decide whether the Wraith is more concerned or intrigued, though the others just look perplexed. John shrugs and he finds he’s unable to resist simply responding “I got better.”

“Regardless, until a time comes when you are able to successfully implement this treatment, we must continue to seek other methods for dealing with the Wraith.” Varan snaps his fingers at Solen and the scientist jerks back from the bars, turning to resume prepping his darts. “But I find it rich that you’d attempt to dissuade me from this exercise, Colonel Sheppard. I know your people had a hand in developing the Hoffan drug that ended up becoming a plague. And I know you helped the Hoffans test it on a living Wraith.”

“That was totally different,” Sheppard insists, rising to his feet. “The drug was only supposed to prevent a Wraith from feeding, not kill them, and the human volunteer was a terminally-ill patient who knew exactly what he’d agreed to. We had no way of knowing the Wraith was at risk of anything other than a missed meal.”

“Maybe so,” Varan allows, “but what of this ‘Michael’ who’s been terrorizing various worlds? Shiana tells me that Atlantis is responsible for experimenting on him. Is that not true?”

John hates that his mistakes are being rubbed in his face, but he can’t change what’s already been done. “Yeah, that one’s on us,” he says. “We fucked up. Big time. That we did it with the best of intentions doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong. Don’t repeat our mistakes thinking it will get you anywhere different.”

“Do not waste your breath on this one, Sheppard,” Todd growls, eyes fixed dangerously on the Genii Commander.

John thinks if looks could kill, Varan would be a smoking hole in the ground.

“He may spin a pretty tale of noble pursuits, but he is only truly interested in one thing.”

John’s fairly sure Todd’s assessment is correct. He’s met men like Varan before, and the Genii Commander has all the hallmarks of a self-righteous sadist. He watches, throat working, as Solen hands Varan the first in a long row of darts. They alternate in colour down the line lying on the table, and Varan opens his rifle, loads the first dart, and slides the bolt closed with a click.

John moves to stand in front of Todd.

“ _Sheppard_ ,” the Wraith warns.

“Don’t do this,” John urges, as Varan aims the rifle, trying to sight Todd behind him.

In an instant Sheppard is pulled to the ground, landing on his back, with an angry Wraith poised above him like a hawk mantling its prey. Todd’s left hand is clutching John’s shirt, holding him down, the rest of his body splayed above, effectively shielding Sheppard.

“Don’t be foolish,” Todd hisses in Sheppard’s ear. “Any dose of a substance intended to affect me would surely kill you.”

Even from his upside-down perspective, John notes that Shiana looks instantly disappointed when it becomes evident Todd isn’t intending to feed on him. He grabs at Todd’s coat, trying to wrestle himself up, but it’s no use. He’d have more luck trying to grapple with a mountain. He feels Todd slide something discreetly inside his jacket, and John looks down to see the glint of a wicked looking dagger. He should have known the crafty bastard had hidden himself a weapon.

“In case you should need to defend yourself,” Todd rasps, and John’s eyes close at the realization that Todd intends him to defend himself against _Todd_. He appreciates the gesture, but he doesn’t think it will help him much.

John hears the rifle fire and Todd jerks back from him, staggering to the ground. He’s up just in time to see Todd yank the dart from his shoulder and cast it aside, before the Wraith collapses, breathing abnormally slow. Sheppard rushes to his side. Todd’s eyes are half-lidded and unfocussed, and his chest is barely moving at all. Sheppard grabs his shoulders and shakes him.

“Todd! _Todd!_ ” John hardly registers the sound of the rifle being emptied and reloaded in the background. He presses his fingers to Todd’s neck, looking for a pulse, and he thinks he’s maybe barely found one when a second dart appears in Todd’s thigh.

Todd heaves upwards with a roar, and he’s shaking with energy, eyes wild, breathing uncontrollably fast. The Wraith clutches at his chest, panicked, growling and spitting and _trembling_ , and John’s pretty sure they’ve shot him up with enough adrenaline to power a freight train.

John tries to make himself small and still beside Todd, lest he startle the crazed Wraith into accidentally injuring him. He doubts there’s anything he can do to help him, but that doesn’t stop him from uselessly wracking his brain.

The rifle fires again and Todd collapses back into Sheppard as the man attempts to catch him, and he makes a noise like the air is being forcibly pulled from his lungs, going limp again, though his limbs twitch with residual activity. John can _feel_ the rapid decrease of Todd’s pulse, and the transition is shockingly, dangerously swift. The depressants must be some sort of barbiturate, he thinks.

Another dart, and Todd jackknifes nearly in half, gasping for breath, jaws wide and snarling as his heart races uncontrollably. The sounds he makes are agonizing.

“The fuck is even the point of this?” John screams at Varan. “ _Bastard_ ,” he hisses, catching Todd again as he heads for the floor. Todd’s skin is drenched with perspiration, and John can’t ever remember actually seeing a Wraith sweat before. He hadn’t been sure they even _could_.

The next shot has Todd spasming out of Sheppard’s grasp, the Wraith writhing and clawing at the floor, shrieking in a harmonic wail, desperate to drag his heaving body back from the brink of _too fast, not enough air._

Sheppard surges to his feet, reaching through the bars in an attempt to grab the rifle out of Varan’s hands before he can reload, but the guards are on him too quickly, shoving their stun weapons through the bars of the cell. John’s sure he feels the burning shock of at least two of them before he blacks out.

* * *

John comes to slowly. His head is pounding, but there are fingers running through his hair, fingers with long nails that scratch gently at his skull and _oh, that feels nice_. One side of his body is warmer than the other and there’s a heavy, comforting weight against his chest and over his midsection. With a groan, he attempts to leverage himself up off the ground.

“Rest, Sheppard.” Todd’s voice is weak, but it nevertheless resonates through his sternum and he looks down to see long white hair falling across his chest. The Wraith lies against John’s left side, head atop his chest, arm slung across his middle. His breath comes unevenly, sometimes in bursts, against John’s skin, and his entire body twitches with residual muscle spasms.

John suddenly remembers.

“Oh, god, are you okay?” He finds it in him to raise his upper body enough to survey both Todd and their cell. The hand in his hair falls away, but the rest of Todd is a dead weight against him.

“No,” the gravelly voice murmurs. “But I will be.”

John looks around, thankful to see they are once again alone, and he has no desire to continue fighting gravity. He lays himself back down, trying to jostle Todd as little as possible. He finds he’s almost afraid to ask: “How long did that bastard go on after I was stunned?”

“I am not sure. I was not in much of a state to keep track. A while, at least.”

“Son of a bitch had you going back and forth between sedatives and epinephrine. Fuck, maybe amphetamines.” His hand strokes up and down Todd’s arm, absently. “You’re lucky your heart didn’t explode.”

Todd makes a noise of assent. “I would not have been surprised if it had.”

“Mother _fucker_. I’m going to kill him.”

“Mmmm…” The hand resumes trailing through John’s hair and John’s eyes slide shut. “Not if I kill him first.”

“Yup. You definitely have dibs.”

“I am glad you think so.”

***

“You’re an idiot, you know.” John mutters a while later. “You shouldn’t have protected me.”

Todd huffs and looks up at Sheppard. There is a speculative quality to his expression, but when he speaks his voice is resolute. “As I have said before, John Sheppard, you are my _brother_. Once, I had lost all sense of hope, but you returned it to me. Along with my freedom.”

John can’t help but grin bitterly at the memory. “Fat lot of good it’s doing us now.”

Todd chuckles, but the sound is pained. “I had thought you were too stubborn to give up this quickly.”

“Hey, I haven’t given up,” John says, “but I am pissed off at our situation, and I’m certainly allowed to bitch about it. Not my fault the only person I have to bitch at is you.”

Todd chuckles quietly again, and his eyes slide shut. The tremors in his limbs haven’t quite stopped yet, but they seem to be abating, albeit slowly.

“For that matter,” John adds as an afterthought, “you’re certainly allowed to bitch at me too, if it makes you feel better.” He’s well aware Todd’s gotten the substantially shittier end of the stick thus far from their captors, so if anyone’s entitled to complain, it’s the Wraith.

“Hmmmm,” Todd hums and shifts closer to Sheppard, pressing the side of his face into the man’s ribs.

“Or, you know, just use me as a human pillow. That’s cool too.” John allows himself to brush Todd’s hair out of the Wraith’s face before he tilts his head back and rests his eyes a while.


	3. A Friend in Need's a Friend Indeed, a Friend With Weed Is Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 in their prison and things are getting... interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who commented and/or left kudos! Comments especially are a writer's drug of choice, so I thank you all for keeping me well supplied!
> 
> As always, a big thank-you to bagheerita whose notes on this chapter were especially helpful!

John awakens before Todd does, during what he assumes is the next morning, though he can’t tell how early it is.

At least, he’s fairly certain Todd is still asleep. He can’t see the Wraith’s face from where his head is resting on John’s chest, and his larger, heavier body is lying against John’s side, nearly motionless apart from the occasional measured breath. And apart from the repetitive, restless motion of a cool thumb against the bare skin of John’s hipbone where Todd’s hand must have migrated overnight.

John flushes and tries to ignore the languid warmth that spreads low in his belly. It’s been a long time since he’s been this close to another body, and he can’t help that he responds to the touch in the way he does. He quickly reaches for Todd’s hand — thankfully it’s not his feeding hand — and deftly repositions it higher up on his side, before things get more interesting than he’s comfortable with.

Todd grumbles and shifts slightly, but he seems content to shuffle back off to sleep, the offending hand now motionless against John’s ribs.

Sheppard wonders whether all Wraith are this cuddly, or if it’s just Todd. He’s never thought of Todd as being the cuddly sort though, so maybe this is fallout from yesterday’s trauma. He finds his thoughts drawn inexorably down the rabbit hole and he wonders whether male Wraith ever have intimate relationships with one another. He supposes they must, at least occasionally, given that the female queens are so disproportionately few in number. He remembers Todd telling him the Gift of Life is something shared between ‘brothers’, and he squirms as he remembers his body’s own reaction to having Todd feed his life force back into himself. Assuming that Wraith would respond in a similar manner… It would follow that such relationships are actually fairly likely.

He wonders if Todd has a special someone back on his Hive, though he’s not really sure he can picture that. Maybe commanders have to remain impartial so as not to cause rifts within their crew? It wouldn’t be too dissimilar to fraternization guidelines within the military, he figures. Apart from the whole DADT matter, which John’s always taken issue with.

“Sheppard, go back to _sleep_ ,” Todd growls suddenly, and his tone is like a mental bucket of ice water as far as Sheppard is concerned.

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just lying here.”

Todd just makes that irritated growl again, and then he slides an arm beneath Sheppard and rolls them into a reversal of their original positions; Todd lying on his back with Sheppard pressed against his side. Todd’s feeding hand remains on the far side from Sheppard’s body.

“Excuse _you_ ,” John mutters. He does make an effort to relax though, and it’s not long before sleep claims him.

* * *

When Sheppard next awakens it’s to an aroma that makes his stomach growl, and he carefully extricates himself from Todd’s clutches. Despite John’s best intentions, the Wraith rolls towards him, on his side, and cracks one yellow cat’s eye, observing. Todd doesn’t seem inclined to do much more than that for the time being.

Sheppard scans the dungeon and sees Solen approaching. He is alone, aside from Sheppard and Todd of course. The man carries a tray with a bowl, cup, and some sort of utensil on it and he bends to carefully slide it through a horizontal gap in the bars of the cell near the floor. Sheppard notices that though Solen initially checks to be sure Sheppard and Todd are away from the bars, he doesn’t keep watch of them as he delivers the tray. John files that information away for later as he approaches to inspect the tray.

The bowl contains what looks like oatmeal with a couple slices of some alien fruit, the cup is full of water, and there is also a wooden spoon.

John’s stomach twists. He is ravenous with hunger, but he pauses, looking skeptically at Solen, who’s begun fiddling with his equipment on the table the guards left from yesterday.

Perhaps feeling John’s stare, the man looks up, noticing John hasn’t touched the tray. “If I’d wanted to drug you, an injection is much more efficient than lacing your food.”

Sheppard grudgingly admits that’s a fair point, and it’s not like Solen and his associates lack the ability to do so. He sits and takes a tentative bite. It’s not bad; a little flavourless despite the fruit, maybe, but Sheppard hasn’t eaten since the half a power bar he’d had yesterday morning, so simply filling his stomach is satisfying. He’d planned on finishing the power bar today, but he figures it’s best to save it still. He knows better than to count on daily provisions simply because he’s being fed now.

Sheppard brings the cup of water back over to where Todd lies. The Wraith’s eyes are closed, but Sheppard knows he’s awake.

“There’s water if you’re thirsty…” John has no idea whether Wraith need to drink at all, or if they simply get their fluids from their usual feeding process.

Todd sits up and takes the offered cup with a cursory inspection. “Thank you,” he says, taking a couple sips before handing it back to Sheppard.

“That’s it?” The cup is still nearly full.

“I do not require much.”

Sheppard shrugs and downs the rest, returning it to the tray and sliding it back through the gap. He considers keeping the spoon, but it’s a _spoon_ , and wooden, like everything else on the tray, so not much of a weapon. He still has Todd’s dagger hidden in his inside jacket pocket, should he need it.

“You got a bathroom anywhere in here?” John asks, startling Solen. The scientist points and John turns to see a small, dark alcove with a bucket in the back corner of their cell. “Great,” he mutters.

A moment later Solen approaches the bars, though he makes sure to stay just out of John’s reach. He’s smaller than John had initially realized, maybe a little less than Teyla’s size, and there’s a slightly underfed look to him. He glances nervously at Todd before addressing John, his voiced hushed. “You — you lie with the Wraith, Colonel? _Willingly_?”

John bristles. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but it gets fucking _cold_ in here at night.”

Solen’s mouth shuts with an audible click. “Ah,” he says quickly, a moment later. “So, their bodies are as warm as a human’s?”

John does not like where this is going. “Why don’t you open that door, come in here, and see for yourself?” he says viciously.

Solen blanches. “I — I am simply interested in Wraith metabolism,” he sputters.

“I bet you are,” John says. “Doesn’t justify what you’re doing here.”

The scientist’s expression shutters and he moves back to the table to resume his work.

“Look, let us go and you can come back to Atlantis with me. Dr. Keller can tell you all about the gene therapy and the retrovirus it’s based on.”

Solen doesn’t look up, but Sheppard sees the slight pause in the motion of his hand as he reaches for a syringe. “I can’t do that.”

“You realize this only ends one way,” John says. “I don’t know about you, but where I’m from the pursuit of science never justifies torture. Or murder.” For all he’s listened to Rodney and the other science department heads bitch about ethics paperwork, he knows that ultimately they respect the need for it.

Solen doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge him, but John notices the faint tremor in the man’s jaw. He sighs and goes to sit by Todd.

“You are wasting your breath,” Todd says with a sad smile, and John doesn’t immediately reply because he’s too busy trying to figure out what _else_ there is about Todd’s expression that makes him think he’s forgotten something. It takes him a moment to realize that those had been the very first words Todd had ever said to him, and a smile breaks out across his face as his black mood is momentarily lifted.

* * *

It’s much later when the sound of boots on stonework rouses Sheppard from his doze. Varan is back with Shiana and guards in tow, and the Genii Commander’s presence instantly raises Sheppard’s hackles.

He glances at Todd and the Wraith’s mouth is set in a grim, hard line, pupils contracted to faint slits.

“You have one day for your idle curiosities, Solen,” says Varan, irritably. “I expect you don’t need me to stay and babysit?” He deposits a radio pointedly on the table beside Solen’s equipment.

Solen is instantly on his feet and at attention. “No, sir, of course not.” He hands Varan a prepared dart and Varan loads his rifle. “Sir, may I have your assistance again in a few hours?” he asks tentatively.

“Very well,” says Varan, though he doesn’t sound happy about it. “Three hours?”

“Er, maybe make it four?”

“Four hours, then.” And Varan turns the rifle on Todd again, and suddenly there’s another dart in the Wraith’s shoulder. As he turns to leave, the guards go with him. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he calls over his shoulder, and then he’s gone.

***

The effects of whatever was in the dart aren’t immediate this time, which has John riddled with worry, though Todd seems eerily calm by comparison. Or he’s just put up a better façade. Or his calmness _is_ an effect of whatever was in the dart… John turns that last thought over and over in his head.

“Sheppard, you’re hovering,” the Wraith says waspishly.

“Of course I’m damn well hovering!” But he gets to his feet and paces the length of the cell in order to give Todd some space.

Shiana looks bored, sitting at the table, examining Solen’s various materials, though he’s expressly told her not to touch anything. She glances over at John every now and then, the disappointment that he’s still here clearly evident on her face.

John hears the faint shifting of leather and looks back to see Todd drawing his knees up, bringing his arms in tight against his body. He’s hunched slightly forward, hands pressed between his thighs.

Sheppard sits beside him again. “You cold?”

“Yes.” Todd sounds faintly surprised. “I feel… strange.”

Sheppard leans against Todd’s back, throwing an arm around him. Todd is shivering, but only slightly. “Strange how?” he asks, chin perched atop a black-clad shoulder.

“Paradoxically, I think I may also feel warm…” A harsher tremor runs through him, almost as if to highlight the absurdity of the contradiction.

“What?”

“As I said, it is strange.”

Nothing about Todd’s body language implies warmth, rather his shivering increases, and he rubs his hands over his arms, leaning further into Sheppard’s body. His chin is tucked into his knees, breath stutters from his lungs, and the expression of resignation on his face spawns something cold in Sheppard’s gut.

For Sheppard, being unable to prevent the various compounds from being forced on Todd isitself its own form of torture. The sense of protectiveness he has for the Wraith makes him feel almost compromised, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. He finds he’s repulsed by the thought of simply ignoring his cell mate, of allowing him to suffer alone. He realizes Todd has somehow become a _person_ , in his mind, rather than the inhuman ‘thing’ their captors see him as. He’s gotten so comfortable with classifying all Wraith as nothing more than enemy monsters, but he hasn’t thought of Todd that way in a long while, and he wonders when exactly that change occurred.

John rubs his hands over Todd’s back and sides, trying to generate heat through friction, but he realizes that Todd himself doesn’t feel any cooler than he has previously. In fact, the opposite may be true. He leans over and presses the inside of his wrist to Todd’s forehead. Sure enough, the Wraith is a furnace.

“Sheppard?”

“You have a fever,” John says grimly.

“I am not familiar with that term.”

“It’s… humans get fevers sometimes when we’re sick. It’s the body’s way of trying to fight off an infection. Something about the rise in body temperature is supposed to help kill the virus, or bacteria, or whatever. I think. I dunno, I’m not a doctor.”

“This happens often to your kind?” Todd sounds moderately disturbed.

“Depends on the person, I guess, and whatever bugs are going around.” Then a thought occurs to Sheppard. “I’m just hoping I can’t catch whatever the little bastard gave you.”

Todd huffs, though John’s not sure if it’s from amusement or the shivers affecting his diaphragm. “Wraith only very rarely fall ill. And no sickness he could give me would take effect this quickly. Nor do our bodies produce this response naturally.”

“Then what…?”

“It must be an agent that modifies the body’s thermoregulatory set-point.”

“Huh.”

“Mm. I am hoping the rise in temperature will let me metabolize it more quickly.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“…Yes.”

John sighs. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Todd doesn’t look at him. “Either way, my body is being forced to expend more energy in order to produce the rise in temperature.” He lets John arrive at the obvious conclusion for himself.

“So burning more energy more quickly means you’ll need to feed sooner.”

“Yes.”

John doesn’t respond. An unsettled feeling crawls slowly up his spine.

“Sheppard.” Todd’s shivering hasn’t lessened, but he is still able to telegraph his movements slowly, and he brings the arm Sheppard doesn’t have wrapped around his back to rest across his chest. He splays the human hand— Sheppard’s right hand — across his sternum in an echo of a Wraith feeding. Sheppard notes that he uses his off hand to do this, the feeding hand and arm curled tightly against Todd’s abdomen. “ _John._ ”

John looks at him.

“Since meeting you, I find I cannot bring myself to feed on dark-haired men.” The words feel like a confession, and Todd’s forehead drops to rest against Sheppard’s sternum.

“Oh.” John doesn’t have words for the sensation in his chest, but he tugs Todd’s shivering body a bit closer. “Okay.”

* * *

When Todd’s fever breaks, the shivering ceases and sweat begins to bloom all over his too-hot skin. He extricates himself from Sheppard and the heat of his warmer, human body.

“However do you humans endure this?” He loosens the catches on his armoured coat and spreads the leather wide, baring swaths of pale greenish skin down past his throat. Beneath his coat, Todd wears a soft-looking charcoal tunic, and he tugs half-heartedly at the neckline. “It’s absolutely dreadful.”

“Yeah I know.” Sheppard tucks a hand into his jacket sleeve and uses the material to wipe the perspiration from Todd’s face. Todd is panting slightly, and John is suddenly overcome by the sight of him, head tilted back, long neck bared, heavy-lidded feline eyes. His eyes are drawn to the depression between Todd’s collarbones, at the base of his throat. John’s always loved that spot, whether on a male or female body, though he finds it more than slightly disturbing that he could be so similarly drawn to it on a Wraith body as well. He turns away quickly, hoping Todd hasn’t noticed.

* * *

John figures it must be four hours later when Varan returns, guards accompanying him as usual. Shiana is staring off into space when she starts at the arrival, though Solen simply looks up from what he’s doing. He’d stopped taking notes on Todd’s condition a while ago, around the time John suspects the Wraith’s body temperature had finally stabilized.

Varan comes to stand in front of Solen. “Well?”

“Classic fever response,” Solen reports. “I suspect medium-grade, though lasting only about a third as long as a quarter dose would produce in humans.”

“Useless,” Varan mutters. “I suppose your second curiosity will not be any different?”

Solen says nothing, but he fidgets with the syringe he’s holding.

Varan makes a disparaging sound. “No more of this futility tomorrow, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Solen nods sharply.

“Is this next substance any more likely to get it to feed or not?” asks Shiana. This is the most irritated John’s seen her yet, or perhaps just the most she’s willing to show.

Varan turns to regard her coldly. “You are under no obligation to remain here, Councillor. While I’d anticipated you’d have taken your leave of us by now, I understand the situation did not progress quite as planned. You are welcome to stay at your own discretion, as per our arrangement, but do not think that our goals and yours are necessarily aligned.”

Needless to say, Shiana is not pleased. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then,” she says, standing, and then haughtily strides from the dungeon.

Varan scoffs and then loads the rifle with the dart Solen gives him.

Todd bares his teeth and hisses as the dart impacts his leg, yanking it out a moment later, though it’s already empty.

Varan leaves then, and Solen simply watches, pen and notebook at the ready.

***

It’s a little while before Todd shows any signs of the drug in his system. His breathing deepens. It’s not faster, maybe a touch slower, as if he is attempting to completely fill and empty his lungs on each breath. He brings a hand up to draw his fingers back and forth over the exposed skin where his neck joins his chest. The movement is almost experimental and he hums at the sensation, staring blankly ahead.

John is still sitting beside him, watching carefully. “Todd?”

Todd doesn’t initially respond, but when John prompts him again he slowly turns to regard the man. His normally slitted pupils are hugely dilated, almost round.

“Sheppard…” Todd’s always had a fairly sensual manner with which he speaks John’s name, but this time it’s especially languid, almost a purr.

“You feeling okay?”

“This is…” Todd takes a moment to consider, and John thinks he’s lost him again, but then, “The sensation… is most pleasant, at the moment.”

“I think you’re pretty high right now.” John has mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, he’s relieved that Todd is not being made to feel pain or any other sort of distress, but conversely he’s also seen too many recreational drugs end in bad trips to allow himself to get too relaxed about the situation.

“High? Nooooo…” Todd rumbles in his gravelly voice. “I am on the ground, with you… John Sheppard. _Colonel_ John Sheppard.”

“…Right.”

“On the ground,” Todd murmurs and then, as if in slow-motion, he leans his body sideways until he’s lying horizontal with his head resting on Sheppard’s thigh.

“Um…”

The Wraith hums and runs his fingers up and down the material of John’s pant leg, as if enjoying the sensation. Then his fingers shift to explore the texture of the cobblestones that form the prison floor. He stills his palm against it, scowling.

“The ground is moving,” he tells John. “I suppose it is always moving. In motion. The ground is the planet and planets both simultaneously rotate and revolve around the stars in their systems. Usually. Of course, some planets are tidal-locked and thus do not rotate.”

John thinks this must be the most surreal moment of his entire life. He’s sitting in a prison cell on an alien planet with a Wraith who is currently, as they say, _tripping balls_ , and waxing poetic about celestial mechanics. _Welcome to the Pegasus Galaxy_.

“It is the same with the sky, the stars,” Todd continues. “Always in motion. One must account for this when calibrating the distance between two points in space. Account for stellar drift. Drifting…” He leverages himself back up to a sitting position. “I am very good at not drifting off-course. Finding the right path. Leading others along it. That is why I am Guide.”

“What?”

Todd looks at Sheppard as if only just realizing he’s there.

“Your name is Guide?” John’s been trying to figure out if Wraith even _have_ names almost ever since he first set foot in the Pegasus Galaxy. He’s taken to giving the ones he meets random, placeholder names so he has something to refer to them by, but this is the first inkling any Lantean has ever gotten that Wraith actually have names for each other.

“No, my name is _Todd_ ,” Todd says, like Sheppard is being obtuse. “ _You_ gave it to me. Though I do not know what it means…”

“But you said you were Guide.”

“Hmmm.” Todd shakes his head. “The mind-sense cannot be translated into words, therefore I cannot tell you who I am. ‘Guide’ is a hollow approximation… a shorthand?” He looks at his hands. “A shortened hand would impair feeding.”

John’s never gotten whiplash so fast from just sitting still.

Todd’s busy staring at his hands, but outside their cell, Sheppard notices Solen closing his notebook in exasperation and repacking his syringes for later. “Useless,” he mutters, taking the radio and shuffling angrily out of the dungeon.

John sighs and hopes that means they won’t be further disturbed until tomorrow.

His sigh must draw Todd’s attention because the Wraith is back in his space again.

“You are also ‘Guide’,” Todd says, staring at John with that intensity all Wraith seem to have.

“Me?”

“What is a shepherd if not a guide? We are the same, you and I.”

Sheppard is stunned. “The Wraith call me ‘Guide’?”

“Yes.” Todd’s expression turns playful then. “When we do not call you other things.”

John can’t _not_ laugh at that. He’s never considered that he and Todd were two sides of the same coin, but maybe there’s truth in that notion. They are both leaders among their people, though not the absolute authority in charge. Both warriors, but also willing to forge perhaps unusual alliances when interests serve.

Todd sways, for a moment, and Sheppard reaches out to his shoulder to steady him, but the motion of his arm seems to snatch all of Todd’s attention, and in a flash he seizes Sheppard’s wrist in his hand.

Sheppard freezes, but Todd presses his face curiously to the palm of Sheppard’s hand. The Wraith’s skin is cool and remarkably smooth. Much more pleasant to the touch than he’d have anticipated. Todd’s eyes are closed, but Sheppard can see the sensory pits in Todd’s face flaring, see his lips part as he inhales, feel his lukewarm breath against the almost invisible hairs of his own skin.

“Mmmm… Sheppard,” Todd rasps. He sounds even more intoxicated. In his off hand, Todd splays Sheppard’s hand open, and then brings his right hand — his feeding hand — palm to palm with Sheppard’s, lacing their fingers together.

Sheppard tries to jerk his hand away, but Todd keeps a firm hold, and John can’t help but remember Ellia’s hand against his arm, Todd’s own hand against his chest. Sheppard shivers. He feels the maw open against his palm, feels it mouth tentatively at his skin in some twisted parody of a kiss. Todd’s eyes are still closed, but he's enraptured by _something_ , and Sheppard wonders fleetingly if that mouth can _taste_ him.

After a moment, Todd lets go and Sheppard sucks air blissfuly back into his lungs.

Todd’s eyes are suddenly boring into his own, and at first Sheppard thinks he merely imagines the faint brush of _something_ at the back of his mind. It’s an almost ghostly sensation, barely even there, but it is _warm_ and _pleasured_ , and it calls forth an echo of itself in Sheppard.

Sheppard licks his lips. “ _Todd_. What are you doing?”

But Todd ignores Sheppard’s question. He leans in and buries his nose in Sheppard’s hair, burrowing down the side of his neck, completely overcome by impulse.

“ _Todd!”_ Sheppard’s hands settle on Todd’s arms, braced as they are against the wall behind him. Trapping him. Sheppard doesn’t push him away.

Todd shifts against John, pressing his face further into John’s neck, and John is forced to tilt his head up and back as Todd buries his nose under John’s jaw. John’s breath stutters out of him. There’s a warmth blooming at the base of his spine, curling again in his belly, and he’s not quite sure when his body got on board with Todd being an appropriate subject for his lust. He wonders if it maybe has anything to do with a tall, beautiful guy he’d had a thing for back in college, but who was sadly straight as a rail. Todd is still a good bit taller, and more lean and wiry than heavily muscled, which John thinks he prefers aesthetically, though he’d never describe Todd as ‘beautiful’. Striking, _yes_ , but not beautiful. At least not by human standards.

There’s definitely some magnetic quality to him, though it’s certainly nothing to do with his being Wraith. John could never react this way, feel this way, with another Wraith, but _Todd_ … Whatever it is, something keeps drawing the two of them together and John has half a mind to just _let it_.

John is suddenly very glad they no longer have an audience.

He’s also suddenly very aware that he has to stop this before it goes any further because it’s clear Todd has absolutely no idea what he’s doing and is running on sensory input alone.

John tries to hold Todd back a bit, but the Wraith is so much stronger than he is. He shoves hard at Todd’s chest and at least that gets him to pause. He looks at Sheppard, confused.

“What is wrong, Sheppard?”

John treads cautiously. “Can we maybe slow this down, a bit? You’re uh, not exactly yourself right now.”

“Who else would I be, Sheppard?”

“That’s a very good question…” John has to admit he doesn’t have an answer there, but Todd is still looking at him like a cat that’s found a stash of catnip. Part of John notes that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of that expression under different circumstances.

Todd seems to gravitate back towards John, his hands sliding beneath John’s jacket, kneading at his back as the Wraith’s face rubs back and forth over his chest. He wonders just how sensitive those sensory pits on Todd’s face are, and whether it’s his scent, or the heat of his body, or maybe something else entirely that has him so captivated.

He feels those claws drag down his back and _oh, wow, that’s nice_ , and then Todd is biting at his shirt collar, a clicking, chittering noise vibrating in his throat, nibbling, scraping _teeth_ back up Sheppard’s neck. John’s breath catches, but he really ought to put an end to this.

Sheppard’s hands move to either side of Todd’s face in an attempt to still him. It works, though he suspects that has more to do with Todd’s preoccupation with the feel of John’s hands on his skin, but at this point he’ll take any opening he can get.

“Come on, Todd. Aren’t you tired at all? Maybe you should sleep this off…”

Todd thinks hard about this for a moment. “I might like to lie down,” he decides. “Perhaps matter will cease to crawl and shift. Everything moves.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Sheppard agrees.

“Good. You will join me.”

“Uh… I don’t think — ”

But Todd doesn’t wait to hear the end of Sheppard’s thought. He pulls the man away from the wall so he’s lying flat on his back, and then Todd snuggles in beside him, burrowing his face just inside Sheppard’s jacket collar, into the space where John’s neck meets his shoulder.

Sheppard figures this is better than the alternatives he can imagine. Especially as he knows it’s going to get cold again in a couple hours. He settles an arm around Todd, closes his eyes, and tries to sleep.


	4. Everyone I Know Goes Away in the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Todd discuss important topics, and then there is some mind-fuckery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to bagheerita for being the bestest of betas.

Todd awakens a couple times in the night, still affected by the drug in his system. Each time, he’s restless, intent on pressing himself as close to Sheppard as possible. John realizes he’s still fixated on physical sensation and though he feels incredibly awkward about it, he finds stroking Todd’s back or running fingers through his hair are the most reliable things to get him to settle and eventually return to sleep. He’s thankful that at least they seem to be the only occupants of any of the cells in this dungeon. He would certainly be self-conscious about having an audience while he’s calming down his drugged-out Wraith cellmate. John’s been having to learn fast and broaden his comfort zone at a fairly staggering rate. For instance, he never would have suspected that Wraith hair is that much coarser than human hair, or that it’s surprisingly easy to untangle by comparison. He sighs and tries to give his mind a rest from being so focussed on the Wraith at his side.

In the morning, Todd groans and tries to hide his face in Sheppard’s shoulder.

“How you doing?” Sheppard murmurs.

“Terrible. It seems the after effects are a more effective torture than the drug itself. My head is aching and I feel dry as a desert.” He certainly sounds it, the rasp of his voice less smooth than usual, more of a croak.

John sighs. He resumes carding his fingers through Todd’s hair, picking out tangles as he finds them. Then he freezes. He’d been doing this to get Todd to relax while he was strung out, but Todd is sober now and he’s not sure either that the gesture will still be tolerated, norwhether he likes how comfortable this has become. Todd simply hums and Sheppard feels him relax further. He tries to do the same.

They doze for a while. There’s nothing much to do and they both need their strength. When Sheppard next wakes, he finds Todd gazing at him. He looks exhausted, like he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Hey.”

Todd doesn’t reply.

John props himself up on his elbows. “What’s up? You still feeling shitty?”

Todd gives a slight sideways nod, which Sheppard takes to mean he’s only slightly better. It’s still a moment before he says anything.

“You should not be so… kind to me, Sheppard. I may start to expect it.”

“Well, you haven’t eaten me yet. At the moment, ‘kind’ doesn’t take much effort.” He means it to be lighthearted, but Todd looks troubled.

“So your kindness is merely transactional.”

“What? No! Of course not.” The expression on Todd’s face makes John uncomfortable. “You think I _like_ watching people suffer?”

“ _People?_ ” Todd says carefully, and John knows exactly what he means to imply.

“ _Yeah_ , _people_ ,” John says, holding Todd’s gaze, and that must satisfy him because he lies back down, head against Sheppard’s shoulder.

“I am sorry. I am in a miserable mood.”

“It’s okay,” John says, and he finds he’s compelled to settle his hand over Todd’s on his chest. He touches his team — jostles Rodney and Teyla or gives a fist-bump to Ronon’s shoulder. This shouldn’t be that much different, right? And anyway, it’s only Todd’s off hand.

“My behaviour yesterday…” He seems to have trouble finding the right words to articulate his thoughts, which is _weird_ for Todd.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sheppard insists. “You were really, _really_ high.” He can’t help the smile that creeps into his voice at the memory.

Todd squints at him.

“ _High_ — it’s a colloquialism from my planet, means you were intoxicated by whatever substance they gave you.”

“Ah. Yes, I felt… lost, perhaps, amid a vast sea of sensation.”

“Reminds me of when I tried ecstasy one time in college,” John says. “I wanted to touch _everything_.”

“You do this habitually on your planet?”

“I only did it the one time. It’s sort of frowned upon, generally. Some drugs can be addictive or dangerous, but others can be fun under certain circumstances. Big difference between making an informed choice to do it and having it forced on you, though.”

“Mm.” Todd seems to think for a moment. “It is strange to be so affected by such compounds. To have one’s bodily systems used against oneself, weaponized almost.”

John digests that for a moment. “I know I’d feel violated if it were being done to me.” Not for the first time, he thinks the ease with which Todd seems to accept what’s being done to him is disturbing.

Todd nods. “I had not been so sure they would even work, initially. Wraith heal so rapidly that very few poisons are effective against us. In most cases they are simply metabolized too quickly to have much of an effect. I suspect that they are using very large doses of extremely high concentrations of each substance.”

“But, you just _let_ them do it.” No, that’s not quite right; Todd’s just as much a prisoner as John is, just as helpless to control his own circumstances. “I mean, you don’t fight back. And I don’t understand _why_. If it were me —”

“— Because that’s exactly what he _wants_.” Todd hisses. “Their Commander is a torturer. He _wants_ me to suffer, wants to enjoy the power he has over me — power he certainly would not have in any other regard, given what he is and what I am. And I cannot deny that he currently _does_ have power over me, over what he does to me. But I still hold power over myself, little though it may be under the influence of their drugs, and so long as I do, I will _not_ give him the satisfaction of seeing me surrender that control.”

John has to admire that sentiment. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“You think I didn’t fight Kolya, at first?” Todd asks, and John looks up at him, confused. “Kolya was not interested in causing pain simply for the sake of it, and _oh_ how I fought him in the beginning, while I still possessed the strength to do so.” Todd’s eyes are dangerously alight with memory. “I refused to feed on his prisoners because _that_ was what he wished of me. And I _kept_ refusing, up to the point at which to do so would have meant the end of me. Though at that point, the burning of starvation was so great that it was easy to give in. Too easy. After that, I started to lose myself, little by little. By the time they had brought you to me…”

“I remember,” John says, and his thumb strokes gently over the knuckles and finger guardsof Todd’s hand on his chest. He remembers the hopelessness in Todd’s voice. The despair.

“You think I don’t hate what is being done to me now?” John is silent, but Todd doesn’t expect him to respond. “I _do_ hate it. I hate that my own body is being used against me. I hate being made to feel out of control. I hate the thought that I might eventually become so mindlessly ravenous with hunger that I _would_ feed on you, my _brother_ , against my own will.”

John grips Todd’s hand a little tighter, feels Todd’s thumb soothe across his breastbone in response. “Well, you were frustrating the hell out of me, so hopefully Varan’s frustrated too.”

Todd laughs, and then he considers Sheppard more seriously. “I regret that you must be here, Sheppard, but I do not regret that your presence makes mine that much more bearable.”

John has to shut his eyes then, Todd’s gaze becoming almost a physical thing. There’s a sensation in his chest that seems to paralyze his voice, and he doesn’t like how vulnerable it makes him feel. He breathes through it, and when he opens his eyes again, Todd looks almost sad. Maybe he’s just imagining it.

“I’m sorry. I have made you uncomfortable.”

John shakes his head and finally his voice returns. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to be alone here either.”

Todd hums. He lowers his head to John’s shoulder again. “Let us speak of other things,” he suggests, and John gets the idea that by “us” he means Sheppard. John wonders if Todd might actually enjoy the sound of his voice. The corner of his mouth quirks upwards at that thought, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Or rather, he’s not sure what else would be a ‘safe’ topic of discussion.

Suddenly he thinks about Todd’s earlier behaviour, and Sheppard finds he cannot contain his curiosity. “Can I ask you about something you said last night?”

Todd groans. “ _Hive preserve me_ , the things I said…” He blinks. “The things I _did_ …”

John tries to suppress a laugh and he thinks he sees a faint greenish tinge darkening Todd’s complexion. He wonders if Dr. Keller would be at all surprised to know that Wraith can blush.

Todd seems more put out with himself than with John, but he relents. “Yes, yes, ask what you will.”

“You said you were called ‘Guide’, but that it wasn’t your name? I’m not sure I understand.”

When Todd looks up, any trace of a flush is gone. “Wraith don’t have names, _per se_ , as you humans conceive of them,” he explains. “We have the feel of each other within the mind-sense, but that is a complex amalgamation of an individual’s personality, history, allegiances, the positions they’ve held, their progenitor queen… so you see, it is much more complex than a name.”

John thinks about this. “But what if you need to mention a particular Wraith to someone who’s never met them?”

“We can convey the notion of that Wraith using the mind-sense to one another. It is not a requirement for both parties to already know of the one being described. There are limits to the mind-sense, however, such as when we maintain records in written text, or when we communicate verbally between ships that are too distant from each other for the mind-sense to reach. In those cases we use abbreviated descriptors for each other.”

“You said it was like a sort of short-hand?”

“Yes, that is an apt description. Some of these short-hand names translate better than others, but they always fall far short of the one they are intended to describe. They can be… irritating.”

“And your short-hand descriptor is ‘Guide’,” Sheppard says slowly. “How well does that fit your long-form descriptor?”

Todd makes a speculative sound. “Mm, it is decent, if incredibly reductive. Certainly not as distasteful as some others I’ve heard.”

“That difference in communication, it makes me think of a saying we have: _a picture is worth a thousand words_.”

Todd brightens. “Yes, that is a good analogy. Now think of everything you know about a single person and imagine how many pictures and words would be required to encompass that information.”

John can’t even begin to fathom communicating like that. “You’re making my brain hurt.”

Todd smiles. After a moment, he says, “I have often wondered about your human names.”

“Yeah? I’m probably not the best person to ask, but what do you want to know?”

“The name you gave me, does it have a particular meaning?”

“Ah,” says John, and he can feel his face reddening. This is not really the conversation he wants to be having.

“You are _blushing_ ,” Todd comments, and the only way John can describe his expression is ‘gleeful fascination’.

“Okay, first of all, I should start by saying that none of us had any idea at all about whether you guys had your own names for yourselves, but we needed a way to tell you apart, so I just started coming up with random names. I may have, uh, tended to pick really common names maybe to make you guys seem less creepy. They weren’t really meant to mean anything specific, though. We just really like to name things,” he says, sheepishly. John shouldn’t really be as mortified as he is, though maybe he’s developed a greater regard for Todd’s opinion than he’d realized.

“So ‘Todd’ has no particular significance.” Todd has a very good poker face, but something in his tone suggests he’s not a small bit disappointed.

“Well, actually, I sort of borrowed it off a guy I knew in college. He was really pale,” Sheppard explains. “I only found out afterwards what ‘Todd’ actually means.” He pauses. “In hindsight, it’s actually weirdly appropriate. Or at least, _I_ think so.” He can tell he’s blushing again and, god, he really hopes Todd doesn’t hate this.

“Yes?”

“Well, ‘Todd’ is an old word for a fox, which is an Earth animal, a predator with sharp teeth. They’re quick, and clever, and we sometimes say that someone is as _sly_ , or _cunning_ , or _wily_ as a fox.”

“ _Really_.” Todd preens. His grin is full of teeth and he seems as pleased as Sheppard’s ever seen him. “ _Marvellous_ ,” he laughs. “You must tell me more of this creature.”

“I mean, I don’t know that much, really. You’d probably get more out of one of the zoologists back on Atlantis.”

“Is this fox also as pale in colouration as my kind?”

“Uh, well, there’s the Arctic fox, which has white fur to blend in with the snow where they live. But I think they turn a different colour in the summer.”

“Ah, it is mammalian?”

“Yeah, foxes are mammals. I think the red fox is the most famous one. They’re not exactly _red_ , more of a rusty orange. I think they have white on the end of their tail, though.” John takes a moment to consider. “I guess superficially they don’t really have much in common with Wraith other than being predatory.”

“Red is also a significant colour for Wraith in stories from long ago,” Todd says.

“How so?”

“The majority of Wraith queens are distinguished from their male brethren by their darker hair, but there are a comparative few whose hair is red. Superstition claims that these red-haired queens were such expert hunters, were able to provide so greatly for their hives, that the excess human blood they consumed was responsible for turning their hair red.”

“Oh gross,” John says, scrunching up his nose in distaste. “Why would you tell me that?”

Todd shrugs. “It is, in actuality, a fluke of genetics. Red hair is a recessive trait, whereas dark hair is dominant, but the old stories still hold sway over some, and red queens are often assumed to possess a greater ferocity than their dark-haired sisters.”

John laughs. “We have a similar stereotype about fiery red-heads in certain Earth cultures.”

Todd seems he’s about to inquire further when his head turns and just a moment later John sees Solen returning down the hallway. He carries a tray with food again, and Todd motions with his head, disentangling himself from Sheppard. “You should eat.”

Sheppard nods, though even the prospect of food doesn’t put him in a good mood because he knows what _else_ will inevitably happen with the coming of the new day, and he certainly doesn’t look forward to that. He grabs at Todd’s arm as the Wraith withdraws and ends up with his fingers around Todd’s feeding hand. Todd hisses, as if Sheppard has touched something sensitive, and at first Sheppard pales slightly, but he resolves not to let go.

“I’m glad you don’t hate it,” he says weakly, and then feels the need to clarify, “Your name.”

Todd’s features seem to soften. “I do very much enjoy the meaning,” he says, “though I would have appreciated it regardless. _You_ gave it to me.”

John opens his mouth and then closes it immediately. He doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Go eat, Sheppard,” Todd says as Solen slides the tray into their cell.

* * *

The food is the same as yesterday and Sheppard eats by the tray opening. He still feels uncomfortable eating in front of Todd, though he does bring the cup of water over to him afterwards. “Go on, you’re probably dehydrated from the drugs.”

Todd drinks nearly half the water this time, leaving the rest for Sheppard.

* * *

It’s not long after that Varan, Shiana, and their cadre of guards return. Sheppard is sitting with Todd again, and he thinks that if maybe he moves closer to the bars he can be just fast enough to attack Varan as he’s aiming the rifle at Todd. Todd’s dagger is a bit long for his liking — he suspects it’s made to suit the slightly larger hands of Wraith — but the extra couple inches would be an advantage if he can grab Varan in a head-lock and force the guards to open the cell.

Todd squeezes Sheppard’s forearm, gently, and discreetly shakes his head _no._

Not for the first time, Sheppard wonders how deep Todd’s ‘surface’ telepathy can reach, or if he’s just very well-versed in reading Sheppard. Both options are unsettling, though for different reasons. He’s not keen on the idea that Todd can read his mind. Or any Wraith, for that matter. He’s had too many run-ins with Wraith queens who have tried to mind-whammy him, and he’d prefer to keep his mind both intact and private. Even _Rodney_ becoming telepathic that one time had wigged him out a bit, and at least he and Rodney are both members of the same expedition and _species_. On the other hand, the thought that he’s been spending enough time with Todd for the Wraith to have gotten such a good handle on him…

He has to admit, given recent developments, that thought doesn’t quite bother him as much as it might have previously.

Todd touches his arm again to get his attention. “When we first met, you said that Kolya valued your life over mine.” Todd speaks lowly enough so as not to be audible to their captors.

John nods minutely.

“The reverse is true here,” Todd continues. “If you make yourself more of an obstacle than they are willing to tolerate, I fear they will simply _remove_ said obstacle.”

John sighs. He knows there is truth in what Todd says, even though he’d prefer not to admit it. He gets up. He has to move, has to _feel_ like he’s doing something, even when he’s not. He doesn’t have Todd’s talent for stoicism. He settles for pacing at the other end of the cell, glaring holes into the back of Varan’s head. He feels a brush of something faint, like a cobweb at the back of his mind, and he looks over to meet Todd’s gaze. The tug of the cobweb becomes a brush of gentle fingers and Sheppard feels Todd’s calm composure wash over him. His initial instinct is to shove the feeling down, out of his head. In this instance, Todd may mean well, but John can’t have the Wraith influencing him like this. If he can influence, what _else_ can he do?

Todd makes an exasperated noise. He’s staring at John in frustration and again John feels that faint brush of _calm_ against his mind. He shoves the feeling away a second time and Todd all but rolls his eyes. Sheppard’s admittedly surprised by how easy it is to reassert his own feelings over Todd’s. Maybe it’s only queens who are mentally strong enough to be dangerous? He looks at Todd again and tilts his head in what he hopes is an inviting gesture. Todd’s scowl slowly recedes and Sheppard again feels the brush against his mind. It’s more tentative this time, but he ignores the instinct to shove it away and instead lets it wash over him. He feels himself relax, which he can’t honestly say is unwelcome at the moment. The tightness in his shoulders disappears and he unclenches his hands. He leans against the bars and waits.

* * *

Varan comes to a stop at the table where all of Solen’s equipment is laid out. “Are you _almost_ ready?” he asks impatiently.

Solen is just injecting the dose of a drug into a dart. “Just a moment.” He fiddles with the pressure of the injectable round, loads the stabilizer onto the end, and then hands it to Varan.

“This is as we discussed? No more of your trivialities from yesterday, hmm?”

“Of course, sir,” Solen replies.

“Good man,” Varan says as he loads the dart and closes the rifle.

Shiana has taken the same seat next to the table that she’d occupied yesterday, still managing to look bored and haughty simultaneously.

Varan glances at John before he approaches the bars, making sure he’s well out of reach, and then he’s aiming the rifle. Moments later there’s yet another dart in Todd’s thigh.

Todd growls at the impact, rising to his feet as he removes the dart. He paces back and forth in front of the bars, waiting for the inevitable.

* * *

At first, Todd seems unaffected, but then what little colour the Wraith has drains from his face and he sinks to his knees in horror.

“Nooo,” he moans, voice ragged. “No, no, no, nonononono… Give it back, give it _back!_ ” He curls into himself and clutches at his head in desperation, rocking back and forth.

Todd doesn’t appear to be a potential danger to John, as he had been when overloaded on epinephrine, so Sheppard approaches cautiously. He kneels next to Todd and peers down to gauge his expression. Todd’s face is a rictus of grief and despair, and Sheppard has never seen any Wraith look so close to tears. Assuming Wraith are even capable of tears.

“Todd? Hey, you okay?” John wants to kick himself; of _course_ Todd’s not okay. He regrets that his bedside manner leaves much to be desired, and he’s instantly reminded of Elizabeth lamenting her own lack of skill in this regard.

“Sheppard?” Todd glances in his direction, but his gaze is unfocussed. “Where are you?”

John’s gut clenches and he suspects Todd has been somehow blinded. He rests a hand lightly on Todd’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Todd doesn’t seem convinced. “No. No, you are gone. All gone.”

John is fairly disturbed and he suspects that whatever they dosed Todd with must be suppressing sensory input. He presses down harder on Todd’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. When that doesn’t work he grips the Wraith’s other arm, turning him towards himself. “Come on, Todd, I’m right in front of you.”

Todd shakes his head in denial even though his eyes never stray from John.

Okay, so maybe not blindness, John decides. Todd is clearly distressed. He tries pressing a hand to the side of Todd’s face in an attempt to give him something to focus on, and Todd seizes his wrist in both hands, pushing his face into John’s palm. “Todd?” The action is an echo of the one Todd was distracted by when overloaded with sensory input, but either way Sheppard’s getting the sense that to Wraith, hands are more important than just for feeding. Or maybe _because_ of feeding.

Todd inhales through his nose, facial pits flaring. “ _Sheppard_ ,” he whines in his multi-tonal voice. His head weaves back and forth, angling his face towards something Sheppard can’t perceive. “Sheppard, where _are_ you?”

John doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to make Todd see that he’s _right here_ , that Sheppard hasn’t abandoned him. Todd is desperate and _shaking_ , and John has no idea what’s wrong with him. He looks angrily at their captors. “The fuck did you _do_?” But Solen ignores him, scribbling furiously in his notebook, and Varan’s cruelly pleased face is otherwise impassive. Only Shiana appears somewhat disturbed, though John can’t say whether he thinks that’s because of his willing closeness with a Wraith, or due to Todd’s reaction to the drugs themselves. His experience thus far tells him the former scenario is more likely, though the strained press of Shiana’s mouth makes him want to hope for the latter.

Sheppard is suddenly forced to sit back because Todd nearly barrels into him. The Wraith still has John’s hand clutched in his, but as he moves forward he lets go, bringing both hands to frame John’s face instead.

“Sheppard?” Todd asks again, hopeful.

“Yeah, hey, it’s me, John.”

Todd’s eyes close in concentration, but when they open again it’s with a snarl of defeat. His breathing is loudly irregular. “Sheppard,” he murmurs absently.

“That’s me, John Sheppard.” He knows Todd enjoys the sibilance of his surname for all the times he’s swirled it around in his mouth like a fine wine. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do, but I’m right here, I promise.” He moves his hands up and down Todd’s arms in what he hopes is a gesture of comfort.

Todd comes even closer, pressing his forehead to Sheppard’s, and as he stares searchingly into Sheppard’s eyes, frantically seeking some sort of connection, John suddenly realizes: _Todd can’t feel his mind_. He’d lost that feeling of calmness not long after Todd had been dosed, but he’d mistakenly assumed that was merely a situational response. Somehow, the drug they’ve forced on Todd has deadened his telepathy.

John is ashamed to admit that his first thought is how much of an advantage this could be against entire hives. Against their surveillance. Most importantly, against _queens_. He could never look at Todd that way, but other Wraith are still the enemy. Maybe Todd was the enemy too at one point, though especially after their conversation this morning, Sheppard’s having a harder and harder time looking at him as anything other than a friend.

But he’s not looking at Todd. Not really. When his focus shifts again to the pitiful creature in his arms, he’s immediately disgusted with himself. He’s horrifyingly grateful that Todd _can’t_ read his mind right now because at least he can’t see how Sheppard might have weaponized his suffering.

“Sheppard… Sheppard… I _can’t —_ ” Todd is flat out shivering in despair, and he presses his face into Sheppard’s chest, winding his arms around the man, as if that is at all an adequate substitute for the disappearance of one of his most fundamental senses.

John’s arms wrap around Todd’s shoulders and he tries to imagine no longer having his sense of touch. That’s the closest human analogy he can think of, but he suspects it still falls terribly short of the significance telepathy holds for Wraith. Maybe blindness _is_ a more appropriate comparison, he considers.

The keening sound Todd is making against Sheppard’s body is heartbreaking, like the sound a grieving or dying animal might make. It’s all the more eerie for the multi-tonal harmonics Todd’s Wraith voice imbues it with, and as Todd’s face is pressed up against him, John _feels_ its resonance in his bones. He thinks he’ll probably remember that sound for the rest of his life. It will certainly haunt his nightmares.

John almost doesn’t notice the change in Solen’s demeanour, he’s so preoccupied with caring for Todd, but the scientist now seems more than a little disturbed by the proceedings, though John can tell he’s trying to hide it. He watches as the man’s eyes dart nervously between Varan and Todd, though John thinks it’s most telling that Solen has stopped taking notes. John wants to scream at him that torture by proxy is still torture, and didn’t he realize what he was getting himself into? Sheppard is suddenly incandescent with rage that their captors be allowed to intrude on Todd in this moment of vulnerability, to see such a proud creature brought low like this, and he yells at them to “Get out, get the _fuck_ out!” but of course they don’t. He thinks maybe Solen jumps a bit at his outburst. John tries to comfort himself by imagining all the things he’d do if those bars just suddenly disappeared.

Sheppard runs his fingers through Todd’s hair, unable to do much more than hold him. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” Sheppard murmurs. He has no idea if that’s even true. He has no idea if Todd can even hear him over the sound of his own voice, though the Wraith’s talons clutch more strongly at his shoulders, so maybe he can. He slides his hand against the side of Todd’s face, trying to angle it up so he can look at Sheppard, see that he’s actually there, even if the Wraith can’t feel his mind.

“John?” Todd says weakly, and at least there’s a reprieve from that terrible sound.

“I’m right here. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I am. I promise.”

“I cannot feel anything anymore, John Sheppard.” Todd sounds defeated. And thoroughly unconvinced. The keening resumes, though much more softly than before, as if Todd doesn’t quite have it in him anymore.

Gradually, Todd’s body sags against John’s, and John adjusts them so that his back is supported by the wall and Todd is half leaning, half draped across his lap. The tragic, inhuman sound becomes ragged with use, and slowly Todd quietens. For once, the Wraith’s incredible endurance is working against him, and it is a long, harrowing while before Todd slips into exhaustion.


	5. There's Nothing Fake About This, You Need to Let Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd needs a favour from Sheppard, and someone finally cracks. Also, there's a fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If bagheerita were a fine wine, I'd pair her with brie cuz it's the best. Just like her beta badassery.
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr. I'm DarklySnarky.

John is having the most unusual dream. He’s floating in darkness. He thinks maybe he can hear the sea against the piers of Atlantis, and he’d open his eyes if he could, but his eyelids are _so heavy_. Or maybe he’s in a forest. He can smell moss and something earthy, like fresh-cut grass or the soil after rainfall. But there’s a feeling at the back of his head, and at first it’s warm and gentle, soothing like fingers carding through his hair, cradling his head. He tries to shift into it but there’s nothing there. It’s like the feeling is coming from inside himself instead of something he can touch. He tries to relax and the feeling returns, coarser, more insistent, like there are fingers but this time they have claws. He feels like it wants something, but he can’t figure out what, and suddenly the insistence becomes a _shove_ and he tries to recoil from the pain, but it’s _inside_ him and there’s nowhere to _go_.

John is shaken into wakefulness, which is unpleasant enough on its own without being accompanied by the throbbing ache in his head.

He opens his eyes groggily, reaching reflexively for his sidearm which is oddly absent, and then the events of the past few days reassert themselves in his mind.

Todd has him by the shoulders and is shaking him, desperation in his eyes. “Sheppard, wake up. _Please_ wake up.”

John’s not sure he’s ever heard the word ‘please’ from Todd before. “Hey, hey, I’m up! What’s wrong?”

Todd is crouched over him looking wild-eyed and anguished, but the Wraith suddenly hesitates. There’s a faint tremor in him still.

Sheppard sits up. “Oh crap, don’t tell me it hasn’t worn off yet.” He doesn’t voice the fear that what’s been done to Todd is permanent.

Todd shakes his head. “No. No, it is out of my system.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Todd takes a steadying breath. “I must —” He stops and starts again. “I would like to ask you for something, though I am fairly certain you will say no, but I _must_ ask it of you regardless. I hope…” But then the desperation steals his voice and John doesn’t get to hear the rest.

“What? What is it?” He’d be lying if he said Todd wasn’t making him nervous.

“I want — I need — a deeper mental connection. I need to be connected, to know that it is again _possible_.” Todd takes a breath, steadies himself. “I need to know I am not still trapped inside my own head.” And before Todd can even finish asking, Sheppard knows _exactly_ what he wants.

“ _No_.” John says sharply. “No way. I can’t do that. You can’t ask me to do that.”

Todd sags. “You would have control, I swear it.”

“Are you crazy? And let you lift Atlantis’ security codes from my head, along with who knows what else?”

“It does not work that way!” Todd insists, his frustration and desperation growing. Then he tries a different tactic. “You seemed to tolerate my surface-touch well enough when I calmed you yesterday.”

“After the _third_ time!” John counters. “You didn’t even _ask_ me!”

“I am asking you now!”

“And I’m saying ‘no’.”

Todd unleashes a frustrated growl and turns away from Sheppard as if it hurts to look at him. The Wraith looks absolutely miserable. He’s wrapped his arms around himself in a self-soothing gesture, and part of John wishes he _could_ say ‘yes’. He’s been doing his best to comfort Todd through this entire ordeal up to this point, and he’s surprised at how much he _wants_ to comfort him now. But it’s not only John who could be affected by this decision, it’s all of Atlantis. If he were only making this decision for himself…

“Explain to me how it _does_ work,” John says, and Todd turns back to him, eyes wide. Hopeful.

He takes a couple breaths to calm himself enough to do as Sheppard asks. “Imagine your mind as a physical space,” he begins. “A place with various paths, doors, rooms.”

“Okay,” John says skeptically.

“Being as this place is your mind, you hold all the keys, as it were, to the various doors and rooms. And you may house whatever information you wish in any of the various spaces. If I am a visitor in your mind, I am bound by what you allow me to access, or not. I may explore any freely open space, but you can restrict my access by imagining certain rooms as being locked. Or you may grant me access by unlocking them at your discretion. Whatever you choose, as a visitor I do not have the power to force my way into any space you would bar me from.”

“Is that true for any Wraith?”

Todd hesitates. “A queen would have the power to force her way where she wished. But a strong enough mind could fight her.”

John shudders at the thought. “So if I want you out suddenly, how do I do that?”

“The same way you forced me out when I attempted to calm you.” Todd’s fingers twitch where they rest on his knees. Like he wants to reach for Sheppard, but is restraining himself. John can see the desperation rising in him again.

If what Todd says is true, and Sheppard _does_ trust him at his word — after what they’ve been through, he can’t _not_ — then he should be able to avoid compromising both himself as well as Atlantis’ security. And… he _does_ want to comfort Todd, if he can. He does not enjoy seeing him like this.

“Please,” Todd says again. “ _Please_ Sheppard. Let me touch your mind. I… I need it. Ask of me whatever you wish. Anything that is within my power to give, in exchange for this. _Please_.”

 _That_ surprises John. That Todd is so desperate he’d make such a _carte blanche_ offer is fairly shocking. Even if he agrees, it feels fundamentally wrong to take advantage like that.

Todd can’t resist taking his hand, then. He holds it between both of his own, and he drops his head to John’s shoulder in supplication.

“ _Don’t make me beg_ ,” Todd whispers, and John thinks if the Wraith’s previous words hadn’t already fit that description, he’s not sure he wants to see what comes next.

He sighs. “Just… give me a minute.” He rubs at the side of his head with his free hand and wonders why he feels so sore. He thinks back to his dream and then to everything that’s just happened. “Were you trying to get inside my head just now? Before you woke me? Is that why my head hurts?”

Todd seems to shrink in on himself even more, which John has to admit is impressive for someone that tall. “Forgive me, Sheppard, I… I had thought merely skimming your mind’s surface would be balm enough, but… I was wrong. I did not intend to cause you pain.” He presses himself even more closely to John.

Sheppard’s first instinct is to be angry, but it’s clear Todd’s actions were not borne of malice.In his desperation, John suspects he’s not thinking entirely clearly, though he also suspects that this ‘surface-mind’ thing is probably something Wraith treat very casually. It takes a moment for Sheppard to arrive at a decision.

“Okay,” John breathes. “Okay, yes. I’m inviting you in, you goddamned vampire, but I swear if this goes sideways…”

Todd’s almost instantaneous relief is palpable. “Oh, Sheppard, you will not regret this. I swear it.”

“How do we do this?” John asks.

“You must relax,” Todd says, easing closer. He angles Sheppard’s body to more completely face his own, and slides his hands gently to either side of John’s face. “Look at me. Eye contact is helpful the first time.”

And John does. He stares into Todd’s strange yellow eyes and he feels that soft mental touch at the back of his head. It’s gentle, and soothing, like it had been at the beginning of his dream.

“ _Relax_ , Sheppard,” Todd says again. “Your mind cannot project outward, so you must open yourself, allow me to come to you.”

John is _trying_. He feels that presence pressing deeper, like it had tried to do in his dream, but this time he imagines welcoming it, drawing it into the centre of his head. Absently, he feels Todd’s thumbs stroking softly at his temples. He breathes in, and then out again, and suddenly Todd is _here_ , inside his mind.

* * *

When Todd next opens his mind’s eyes he’s in Atlantis. Or rather, he’s within Sheppard’s mind which has taken on the façade of Atlantis, specifically the main atrium housing the Stargate.

“ _Of course_ ,” Todd murmurs. He can’t help but grin, turning to take in his surroundings. He sighs, inexplicably relieved that this connection is finally returned to him. Its absence had been nothing short of terrifying. Sheppard is there too, standing halfway up the stairs to the Control Room, looking around like he’s surprised that his mind should take on the form of the city he loves so much.

“ _Huh_.” Sheppard descends the stairs slowly. He closes his eyes, briefly, and Todd can feel him reaching back to his body, negotiating the discrepancy between his seated body and his standing mental self. He stumbles down the last couple steps and Todd rushes to catch him.

“ _Careful_ ,” he says, and then Sheppard is _here_ in his arms, and he’s _here_ in Sheppard’s mind,and he is overcome by the utter sweetness and familiarity of this sensation, to be finally connected again to another mind. That the mind in question is Sheppard’s makes the experience only more glorious.

“ _This is weird_ ,” Sheppard says, and he’s regained his footing, seeming to have separated the physical and mental stimuli from one another. He steps out of Todd’s embrace, though he keeps a hand on Todd’s arm to steady himself. He looks at the Stargate and suddenly the shield is activated. Then instantly deactivated again, as Sheppard explores the mechanics of his mind-space. “ _So I can control whatever I want in here?_ ” he asks.

“ _Of course,_ ” Todd replies. “ _It is your mind_.”

Sheppard’s eyes are bright as an idea comes to him. He concentrates for a moment and suddenly a smallish, quadrupedal creature darts out from behind the Stargate. Cautiously, it creeps closer, peering up at Todd with a shrewd, pointed face, tall ears rotating forward, long bushy tail following in its wake.

“ _That’s a fox,_ ” Sheppard says, and Todd is delighted both by the substance of what Sheppard would show him and by the ease with which he seems to have adapted to the mental plane. It is quickly done, though Todd notes that Sheppard’s always been a quick study.

“ _Marvellous,_ ” he rasps.

The orange creature steps nimbly on black-tipped limbs, sniffing warily at the edge of Todd’s coat before fleetly dashing up the stairs and down a hallway. Sheppard sighs as he releases his concentration and stumbles again, briefly. 

“ _You should sit, I think,_ ” Todd suggests, supporting Sheppard’s mental avatar by the forearms and drawing them both over to sit on the steps that progress up from the atrium. Todd seats himself one step below Sheppard, leaning against him, savouring this closeness. “ _I thank you, Sheppard. Truly, I am grateful for this._ ”

Sheppard nods. “ _I think, maybe I knew that… That_ is you _I’m feeling?_ ”

Todd grins. “ _Perhaps,_ ” he allows, and permits his gratitude and happiness and desire for closeness to more thoroughly suffuse Sheppard’s mindscape.

“ _That’s… hmm_.” Sheppard is quiet then. He doesn’t look at Todd.

“ _What is it?_ ”

“ _I was going to say that feels like a lot._ ” He rubs absently at his breastbone. “ _I’m not very good with feelings_.”

“ _Ah._ ” Todd allows his projection to wane and immediately he can see the relief evident in Sheppard’s posture. “ _Here you may simply project them yourself, rather than articulate them._ ” That is what most Wraith usually do, so for Todd it is somewhat unnerving that Sheppard should hold his emotions so tightly bound within himself, but he realizes that this is a learning experience for both of them. Perhaps this is simply how humans operate.

Sheppard does turn to look at Todd again, though his expression is guarded. “ _What exactly are we? To each other, I mean?_ ”

Todd tilts his head. He’s not sure what it is that Sheppard is asking. He suspects there’s a subtext here that he’s unable to decipher. “ _Are we not brothers, John Sheppard?_ ”

John sighs. “ _I’ve never really understood what that means. I — I want to know what it is you want from me._ ”

“ _Ah._ ” Todd thinks he maybe understands what Sheppard is seeking. “ _I suspect you are asking not because you seek a plainspoken answer, but because you fear being overwhelmed by my response,_ ” Todd says carefully. “ _I would tell you to trust your instincts in this regard._ ”

He so _wants_ Sheppard to come to him, but he keeps his desire held tightly to himself, lest he startle the human. Humans are prey, after all, and they startle easily. Even for one such as Sheppard who is not usually prone towards fear, Todd suspects the manner of his wanting would startle Sheppard more so than if he simply desired to feed from him, because at least the feeding is something Sheppard has come to expect.

“ _Oh._ ” There is a faint pinkish tinge to Sheppard’s face, even on his mental avatar, and Todd finds he is glad of these small cues because he cannot so clearly detect Sheppard’s heartbeat or the heat of his body on the mental plane as he can from the human’s physical form. Though he does reach momentarily back to his own body and it tells him that Sheppard’s heartbeat is slightly faster than usual. “ _I have to think about that,_ ” Sheppard says.

“ _Take your time,_ ” Todd suggests. “ _It does not seem we are in a hurry to be elsewhere at the moment._ ”

“ _No, but… we really do need to get you out of here_.” Sheppard hesitates for a moment, but then slides his hand onto Todd’s shoulder. He closes his eyes. “ _I can feel it. The fire_.”

“ _Pardon?_ ”

“ _You once told me that your hunger burns like fire_.” Sheppard looks at him seriously. “ _I can feel it_.”

“ _Sheppard, you have seen me starve before. I appreciate your concern but I am not yet at that point, I assure you_.” Todd lays his hand over Sheppard’s and his pleased expression dissipates as he realizes Sheppard’s fatigue. “ _You’re exhausted. Why did you not tell me?_ ”

“ _What are you, my mother_?” Sheppard laughs. “ _Anyway, you’re the one who woke me up_.”

Todd looks properly chagrinned. “ _Apologies. I thank you for this, Sheppard, but I will let you rest._ ”

* * *

The dungeon is still cold as ever, and Todd pulls Sheppard into his side to resume sleep. John has to admit he finds the Wraith’s inhumanly slow heartbeat oddly lulling.

“You know, just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m fragile,” he says, though the yawn that follows doesn’t do much to emphasize his point.

Todd chuckles. “I certainly would never accuse you of _that_ , John Sheppard.”

* * *

There’s an odd sort of energy emanating from Solen when he enters the dungeon with Sheppard’s breakfast the next morning. John watches him as he eats and the man seems more nervous than usual, eyes darting continuously from himself to Todd and back again. He hesitates as he comes to retrieve the tray. His left hand is in the pocket of his lab coat, and John’s pretty sure he sees Solen’s fingers worrying at something held within.

He comes a little too close to the bars. “If I help you, will you take me back to Atlantis?”

John blinks. “Why now? What’s changed?” He eyes the chemist speculatively.

“I — I can’t do this anymore,” he says shakily. “I’m so sorry. This was never what I’d intended.” He glances furtively at the dungeon entrance. “The things he wants me to do… I don’t have the stomach for it. Not even to a Wraith.”

John’s pretty sure he’s sincere. “Okay,” he says. “You get us out and I’ll grant you amnesty in Atlantis.”

Solen’s face falls. “I don’t have the key.”

“Then how can you help us?” John growls in aggravation.

Solen produces two loaded darts from within his pocket and offers them to John, who looks at them as if someone just offered him a live Iratus bug. “They’re paralytics,” he explains. “If you can get close enough to the Commander that you can inject him, I believe he carries the keys on him at all times.”

“Great,” John mutters as he takes them carefully. He’s relieved they have caps over the ends of the needles, at least. “That won’t be at all difficult,” he says dryly. He slides the darts carefully into his outer jacket pocket. “Just jab them in?”

“Yes. They’re pressurized, so they’ll depress completely upon insertion.”

“How quickly will they take effect?”

“In a human, a few seconds most likely.” The unspoken implication that they hadn’t originally been intended for human use makes John slightly nauseous.

“That still leaves me needing to get close enough to Varan to inject him in the first place.” John sighs. “He’s not an idiot, no way is he gonna come close enough for me to get the drop on him. Can you get me a pistol? Or better yet my sidearm?”

“I can’t. I don’t have access.”

“Give me the darts, Sheppard. I will grab him.”

At the sound of Todd’s voice, Solen visibly jumps. Sheppard considers. Todd is certainly fast enough and more than strong enough to keep hold of Varan even if he or the guards retaliate.

“How are you gonna get him to come close enough?”

Suddenly Sheppard sees something move quickly in his peripheral vision and he jumps back, spinning reflexively to face it and startling Solen as well. There’s nothing there, and when he turns to face Todd, the Wraith is smirking.

“Shit. I forgot you can do that.” He sighs. “Okay, let’s hope that works.”

Todd rises and approaches slowly to stand next to John, and Solen takes more than a few steps back. “We will have to wait until he has dosed me with the next substance. What was to be the effect of the next compound?”

Solen visibly pales at being directly addressed by the Wraith. He gapes like a fish for a moment before finally finding his voice. “In humans it causes blood to seep from pulmonary capillaries,” he whispers, suddenly finding his boots extremely captivating.

“What?” John can only partially decipher the science-speak.

“It means the lungs will fill with blood.” Todd curls his lip, growling softly. “Very well,” he says. “Wraith can survive hypoxic conditions for a short while. I should still be able to do what we need.”

John is not happy about this. He doesn’t think what probably amounts to medical simulated drowning would be any better than when he’d seen people subjected to waterboarding during his time in Afghanistan. It’s not pretty. Definitely not something he would wish on his worst enemy let alone his… whatever Todd is to him now. He hands Todd the darts and Todd secrets them away behind a flap in the front of his coat that John would never have guessed was a pocket.

Sheppard turns back to Solen again. “Can’t you give him a fake drug? Fill a dart with saline, or something? He can fake the symptoms instead of having to actually go through them.”

Solen shakes his head miserably. “I don’t have any spare darts, and all of today’s doses are already loaded. I also don’t have any saline, and the Commander will become suspicious if I leave to get more supplies. I’m sorry.”

John’s about to protest, but Todd lays a hand on his shoulder. “It is alright, Sheppard.”

“No, it’s _not_ fucking alright,” John hisses, but Todd’s hand tightens on his shoulder and Sheppard sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He turns back to Solen. “Try to do everything as normally as you usually would and then when we make our move just duck and get as much out of the way as possible.”

Solen nods and returns to his worktable, and Todd goes to sit against the side wall again.

John sighs and sits in his usual spot by Todd. He tries not to think about the next dose of drugs and to instead focus on what he and Todd had discussed earlier in his mind. And like, how crazy does that sound? What does he even want from Todd, never mind what Todd seems to want from him. Which sounds like more than John had initially anticipated.

Admittedly, John actually really likes Todd. He realizes he’s grown to consider him a friend at the very least, but he wonders if he could see him as something… more. There have been times where his baser appetites have seemed to think so. John certainly respects Todd. He’s a brilliant scientist and strategist, and he leads his people well. And he’s a keen and devastating warrior. John knows he’s got a bit of a thing for competence which Todd has in spades. What’s more, Todd is fiercely honourable, which John never expected to find in a Wraith. Though maybe that’s more a case of most Wraith not considering humans worthy of honouring rather than Wraith as a species being entirely devoid of honour. _There’s_ a perspective he never thought he’d be considering. Regardless, John has to admire Todd for his adherence to his principles. They’ve certainly saved John’s life on a number of occasions. And he likes that the Wraith is funny. Todd has a wicked, if dark, sense of humour — probably the only Wraith John’s encountered to even _have_ a sense of humour. Though maybe Todd is just an unusual Wraith in general. John grins as he remembers being told about Colonel Carter’s first meeting with Todd and how he’d baited her with the offer of a handshake. Yeah, maybe he does like Todd a little more than he’d anticipated.

_What are you thinking about?_

“Shouldn’t you know?” John replies coyly, and then he realizes Todd hadn’t actually spoken aloud. “Wait, how — ?”

 _Simply focus on our mental link and think_ at _me. And no, I cannot ‘read your mind’ as your people are fond of assuming. Though you are projecting quite strongly again._ He pauses. _Was it about me?_ Todd’s grin is wry, and Sheppard returns the expression.

John feels for the place in the back of his head where he’s sensed Todd before. _Maybe,_ he says, shifting closer and leaning against Todd, resting his head on the Wraith’s shoulder. _You haven’t done this before; do you need to establish a connection to make it possible? Or were you just trying not to freak me out?_

Todd chuckles in John’s head. _No, a mental connection is necessary to converse this way with a human. Wraith can simply speak telepathically with each other by default._

 _It’s definitely convenient,_ John notes. _Especially in a tactical situation._

 _Precisely._ Todd says.

Sheppard makes a noise of assent. _Will you keep watch? I just want to rest my eyes for a bit._

_Of course._

* * *

Todd rouses Sheppard by sliding a hand gently down his arm and Sheppard opens his eyes, the awareness of echoing footfalls coming to the forefront of his perception. Varan is again coming down the dungeon corridor accompanied as usual by his guards and followed by Shiana.

Sheppard straightens from where he’s slumped against Todd’s side. He tucks a leg beneath himself, while still sitting with his back to the wall, so he can move quickly if he needs to.

He looks at Todd and presses his hand to the back of the larger, paler one resting on the ground between them. It’s Todd’s feeding hand, but Sheppard can’t bring himself to mind much, especially when Todd’s thumb flexes upwards to touch the side of Sheppard’s hand.

 _I will be fine,_ Todd says warmly in John’s head.

Sheppard huffs in exasperation. _Stop that. I should be comforting you, not the other way around._

Todd grins at him. _You are sweet, Sheppard._ And then he turns his attention to the Genii.

That uncomfortable warmth in John’s chest is back again, though he doesn’t have time to analyze it because Varan is already taking the dart from Solen and loading it into his rifle. It closes with a click, and then he’s hoisting it against his shoulder, sighting Todd, and firing.

Todd hisses at the impact in his shoulder and then immediately yanks the dart out, casting it aside. He got to it quickly, and Sheppard thinks there still might be a drop or two of yellow fluid inside, rather than in Todd’s veins.

* * *

The drug begins to affect Todd more quickly this time — after only a matter of minutes — but the symptoms themselves are only mild at first. John notices the change in Todd’s breathing, how he seems to need a deeper breath in order to get the same amount of air. It’s slow, but after several minutes Todd’s breathing becomes more and more laboured. After about twenty, John can hear the fluid rattling in his lungs with each breath.

Amazingly, Todd still seems fairly calm. He’s breathing through his mouth now, instead of his nose, exposing those needle-like teeth, and he glares defiantly at Varan, but the Genii Commander just grins right back.

It’s another twenty minutes before Todd has given up glaring at Varan, his spine arched back, head high and face tilted to the ceiling in an attempt to lengthen his respiratory tract as much as possible. His arms are locked straight, palms against the ground, to support himself.

Sheppard kneels at his side, one hand between Todd’s shoulder blades, the other gliding gently up and down his chest, trying to ease him through each rasping breath. _Come on, Todd. You’re gonna be just fine_. He can hear the crackling, gurgling sound from Todd’s lungs, and it fills him with dread.

“You see,” Varan says, speaking to Solen while motioning at Todd, “here’s something that has real, tangible, _tactical_ , use. They can’t run or fight if they can’t breathe.”

Sheppard is furious, but he does his best to contain himself. His only consolation is that Varan is leaning eagerly against the cell bars, secure in the knowledge that Sheppard is too far away and Todd too incapacitated to reach him before he can react. Which is exactly where he needs to be for their plan to work.

_When I tell you, you must let me grab the Commander, then find his keys while I restrain him._

Sheppard is momentarily startled to hear Todd’s voice in his head, but he nods ever so discreetly. _Alright,_ he replies.

_Then, when you have unlocked the cell, you must let me out first. You are unarmed and they will kill you._

_Hey, I have your dagger!_

Even struggling for breath, the corner of Todd’s mouth quirks upwards at Sheppard. _Even so. Tell me you understand._

 _Fine,_ Sheppard relents. _Just let me know as soon as you feel it starting to wear off._

 _No chance of that yet,_ Todd says bitterly, as he continues to struggle for breath.

***

It gets worse. Todd seems to be losing lung volume rapidly to the rising fluid, and soon he’s panting and gasping with the inability to fill his lungs with air. John’s seen this before, albeit in people suffering from oxygen depletion rather than drowning, but he supposes the end result is the same.

It’s hard to tell, what with Wraith being so pallid by default, but Todd’s skin is definitely losing colour. Instead of the typical pale jade, his skin is ashy and the veins less prominent as his blood becomes less and less oxygenated.

John can’t hear the fluid rattling around as much now, though he suspects that’s actually a bad sign instead of a good one. Less noise means less air in Todd’s lungs.

Todd spasms and spits up blood, the black fluid dripping to the stone floor from the corners of his mouth. He spasms again, and John does his best to keep him upright.

 _No, Sheppard, let me go,_ Todd urges, and John does as he asks, allowing him to fall forward, supported by his hands. He spasms a third time, and John realizes he’s coughing, or trying to cough, and the amount of blood Todd finally hacks up is frightening.

For a brief moment Todd’s breathing sounds somewhat normal again, and then the rattling begins all over again. John wipes at Todd’s mouth with his sleeve and helps him sit up, though Todd is leaning much more heavily on him than before.

John can feel the panic rising in Todd again, as his lungs fill repeatedly, and Todd clutches at him in desperation. _Just, cough it up as you need to_ , John says. He feels just as helpless this time as all the times before, and he still hates it just as much as he ever did.

The second time Todd’s lungs fill to overflowing, John has to grab him to prevent him from keeling over, and he just narrowly avoids being covered in blood as Todd heaves and clears his system. The arm of his jacket doesn’t escape unscathed though, the dark stain seeping into the fabric.

 _I am sorry, Sheppard. I do not think I am going to last long enough to get us out of here._ Todd lies panting in John’s lap, and John gathers bloodstained hair away from his face.

_Shut up. Yes you are. You’ve lasted through all the rest of the crap they’ve thrown at you, and you’re gonna survive this too, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming from this dungeon myself. Which I’m really hoping not to have to do because you’re damned heavy. So buck up._

Todd doesn’t respond, but he’s beginning to hyperventilate again and John wonders if that calming thing Todd had done works both ways. He tries to focus on their shared mental connection and imagines shoving a wall of calmness at Todd like a wave of water at a beach. Almost immediately Todd sags against him, eyes closing, breathing momentarily clearer.

 _Clever Sheppard_ , Todd murmurs in his mind. _Thank you._

_Don’t mention it._

* * *

The third time, Todd can barely support himself, leaning over John’s arm, as John holds his hair back with his other hand.

_Come on, cough, dammit!_

_I can’t… Sheppard, I can’t! Help me…_

John feels Todd’s muscles quivering uselessly beneath his hands. He knows he’s not strong enough to forcibly manipulate Todd’s body the way he could with another human, but Todd is so weak, maybe, just maybe… He braces Todd’s chest against his shoulder and places his hand on the Wraith’s abdomen, pressing in as much as he can while drawing the heel of his hand up sharply under Todd’s ribs.

It works. Todd jerks suddenly, spitting up more blood, and then he’s able to give a proper cough and expel much of the rest of the fluid. John rubs his back soothingly as he stares at the black-stained floor of their cell. If a human Todd’s size had lost this much blood, he’s pretty sure they’d be dead.

Todd doesn’t even try to hold himself up anymore. He just leans into Sheppard and closes his eyes, sucking in air while his lungs are empty enough to do so.

After a while, John helps Todd to his knees again so he can achieve the more vertical posture that facilitates his breathing, and he wonders _When is this fucking thing going to let up?_

 _It has already started,_ Todd says. _In a little while I think I will be ready._

Sheppard blinks. Todd has shown absolutely no sign that the drug is wearing off or that his symptoms are lessening. He must see the confusion on Sheppard’s face.

_I do not want them to know I am not still incapacitated. I have been… playing along._

Sheppard has to admit he’s impressed. _And the Oscar goes to…_ he thinks offhandedly.

_What?_

_Not important. Ask me again once we’re out of here._

_Very well._

Several minutes later Todd starts coughing again. He brushes Sheppard aside and leans forward, making a show of lurching out from the wall, bracing himself on his hands as he coughs up even more black blood onto the stonework floor.

 _Get ready,_ he says to John. He lurches forward again, and John can see he’s trying to discreetly edge himself closer to the bars, but Varan notices too and takes a step back. Todd’s brow furrows for a moment and then Varan wheels around, brandishing his rifle at nothing as he backs up against the bars again. _Now!_

Instantly, Todd leaps the 12 feet to the bars of the cell, yanking Varan against the iron as he jams the first paralytic into his shoulder. Varan struggles for a moment, but goes limp fairly quickly, and then John is right there, searching for the keys. He finds them in Varan’s left hand pocket, just as Todd’s feeding hand is clamping down on the Genii Commander’s chest, and the guards are rushing towards them, stun weapons raised, and then they too are distracted by Todd’s phantoms.

Todd uses Varan’s body as best he can to block what stun weapons are thrust at him, in between the guards startling at the Wraith visions, as he feeds while John fumbles with the keys, searching for the one that fits their cell door.

He finds the right key on the third try, and yells for _Todd!_ in the Wraith’s mind as he hauls the cell door open.

Todd doesn’t wait to be told twice. He drops Varan mid-feeding to the floor and rushes out of the cell, sending the first guard he meets flying into the wall with a sickening thud. A pistol fires and there’s dark blood running down Todd’s coat, but he’s already healing and he grabs the next closest guard, slamming his feeding hand into him. The other two are on him with their stunners, the body of their quickly withering colleague between them and the Wraith, blocking any possible shot at Todd. John comes up behind one, slicing his throat with Todd’s dagger. The next one turns to grapple with John and then Todd is there too, feeding hand finding the chest of the last one from behind, John watching the guard’s face age and desiccate before his eyes. He shudders. He knows firsthand what the experience is like, and he turns away to survey the rest of the dungeon.

Solen is cowering beneath the table with his equipment, much of which has fallen or been smashed in the scuffle. Shiana is nowhere to be seen — she must have fled at the first sign of trouble. The four guards are all dead, two from being fed on — the last body drops to the floor from Todd’s grasp — and two from their injuries. And Varan is half-withered but still alive, slumped on the floor against the bars of the cell, his shallow, laboured breathing the only movement he’s capable of while the paralytic still works through his system. John makes to grab the fallen soldiers’ pistols, tucking Todd’s dagger back into his jacket.

Todd takes stock of the situation and then stalks slowly back to the Genii Commander. He crouches down, looking Varan in the eyes. “Now I can repay the courteous treatment you’ve so graciously shown me during my stay here,” he rasps, voice like ice. Then Todd glances at John, who’s come to stand over them both, and John knows his expression is meant as a warning in case John does not want to witness the proceedings.

“This one I don’t mind watching,” John says darkly. Varan’s face is incapable of movement, but John knows the look in his eyes is fear, as the Wraith’s hand clamps back down on his chest. Todd doesn’t draw it out any longer than necessary, so it takes less than a minute for him to drain Varan dry. John breathes an audible sigh of relief.

Todd stands and turns to John, and John is amazed at how much softer and less strained Todd’s face appears after feeding. He’s almost glowing. And his hair seems less dull than before, more luminous, though bits are still dark with dried blood.

John hands Todd one of the pistols he’s collected, and then turns to Solen who’s still cowering under the table. “Tell me about the layout of this place. How many men are there, and where are they keeping my gear?”

“Your things are in the third room on the left down this hallway,” Solen says. “There should be two teams of four guards each on the upper level, one at the exit to the complex, and another probably in one of the rooms off the upper hallway.”

“And the Stargate?”

“It’s on the continent. This facility is on an island off the coast to the west of the mainland.”

John’s heart sinks. “ _What?_ How are we supposed to get to it?”

Solen seems to make himself smaller somehow. “There’s a boat that’s supposed to come for us in just under three weeks.”

“Dammit!” John curses in frustration. He paces. He knows he’ll have been missing long enough for his GDO code to be locked out before then.

“Sheppard,” Todd says, motioning to the hallway, “we can address that later.”

And he’s right, because John hears what sounds like either one or both additional groups of guards clamouring down a set of stairs. He nods to Todd and the two of them take up positions on either side of the hallway opening, moving together like they’ve been doing this since forever.

They wait for the guards to come at least halfway down the hallway before they attack. John knocks one down with a shot to the chest, while Todd seems to be going for kneecaps and shoulders. They fell two guards and then Todd is charging down the hallway grabbing the last two, taking a shot to his side, but not caring because he’s already feeding on one, and the other will soon be next.

John takes a moment to unlock the third door with the keys he still has from Varan. Sure enough, there on a shelf is his tactical vest, P90, backpack, and other gear and weapons. He grabs them and affixes them to his person, and then grabs a Wraith handheld stunner he sees nearby that he suspects is Todd’s. He doesn’t see anything else worth taking, just an assortment of Genii pistols and stun rods.

“Hey,” John says as he steps back out into the hallway. Todd rises from where he was crouched over a now-desiccated guard. “This yours?” He tosses Todd the stunner.

“Excellent.”

John calls to Solen before they progress onwards, “Solen stay here, we’ll be back after we clear the area.”

He hears a weak “Yes, Colonel,” in response, before he turns back to Todd.

“Shall we?”

Todd nods and leads them up the stairs.


	6. And My Spirit Is Crying for Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may be out of the dungeon, but they're not home yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! I'm DarklySnarky.
> 
> As always, thanks to bagheerita, the darkest and most chocolaty of dark chocolate betas. ;P

John is much more in his element now that he has his weapons and gear returned to him, but he lets Todd take the lead both because he has the stunner, and because even an unarmed Todd is a force to be reckoned with.

John is fully aware that Todd stunning any additional enemies, rather than John shooting them, means that he can then feed on them. John’s admittedly not entirely comfortable with that, but he rationalizes that if Todd were any member of the Atlantis military, he and John would still be forced to kill all enemy combatants in order to fight their way out — this way, the end result is technically the same, and he’s not about to argue with Todd about feeding on the people who perpetuated such acts of cruelty against him. Though even if he did, his heart wouldn’t be in it; these people have allowed terrible things to be done to Todd and forced John to watch as they did so. He absolutely does not feel obligated to come to their defence.

The upstairs portion of the facility is basically the same layout as the lower level, sans dungeon: an L-shaped hallway with a variety of rooms branching off from it, and they make sure to check and clear each room as they progress so as not to end up flanked by multiple combatants. The majority of rooms on the main level seem to be barracks, though there are two offices and a large kitchen that doubles as a mess hall.

John makes a note to return and raid the kitchen afterwards.

Sure enough, as Solen had mentioned, there are four more Genii soldiers guarding the facility entrance, and Todd manages to stun two of them before the others are alerted to their presence, at which point he just flies at them taking a couple pistol shots to centre mass, but healing them almost entirely by the time he makes physical contact, and then it’s all over and he’s feeding from them one after another, with the other two unconscious guards soon to meet the same fate.

John admits he feels a little superfluous, but he also knows that he’s a little less steady on his feet after the adrenaline rush has worn off. Todd has the advantage of being very recently well-fed, while John is running on fumes from the meagre subsistence rations he’s been given the last few days, and he leans against the wall as he waits for Todd to finish.

When Todd stands and faces him again, John notices how straight-backed and poised the Wraith is, his eyes full of focus. Well-fed, Todd is _glorious_ , even with blood and bullet holes marring his appearance, and John can’t help but stare.

“Sheppard?”

“Hmm?” Sheppard jerks as he realizes Todd has moved closer since he started staring and is now looming over him.

“Come, let us survey the perimeter, and then you should replenish yourself.”

“No argument here,” John says, following him out through the heavy door of the facility’s entrance.

* * *

Todd revels in the feel of the fresh air against his skin, the sun on his face, as he and Sheppard emerge from the bunker. He is _free._ He looks up at the sky. It’s too light out yet to see stars, but he knows they’re there. His senses are assaulted by a myriad of scents from salty seawater to an assortment of wild vegetation, and even a hint of acrid human fuel, all of which are a refreshing change from the damp, dark prison.

He is finally sated and full of energy, having glutted himself on the lives of the prison guards and their warden, and his blood thrums with power. His veins are full of live wires and he longs to run, to _hunt_. He catches a whiff of Sheppard on the breeze and he longs for other things as well… But now is not the time.

The facility entrance sits atop a hill of higher elevation compared to the surrounding island, upon which long grasses sway in the wind. To the north Todd spies a docking platform for seagoing vessels to moor up against. To the west, there is a beach that extends past the downward slope of the grassy hill they stand atop. He detects no other humans across that swath of the island terrain, but he sets off at a brisk walk around the complex, making sure Sheppard is in tow.

To the south there’s a vast field of grasses that stretches for a distance, and Todd can just barely detect where the field ends and becomes the sea. He flares his sensory pits and picks up small spots of heat from fist-sized herbivorous creatures that flit between the grass stalks and disappear from view as he and Sheppard approach. Above, sea birds squawk and dive into the grasses in pursuit of the small creatures.

“Oh, god, it _is_ an island,” Sheppard groans. “How are we gonna get out of here?”

“Can humans not swim?”

Sheppard rolls his eyes. “Well, _yeah,_ but not all the way to the mainland! And it’ll get colder the farther out you go.” He sighs. “You could probably make it, though.”

“Yes,” Todd confirms. “So long as it is not farther than a dozen or so of your kilometres.”

Sheppard’s mouth presses into a firm line and he looks unhappily out to the horizon. He seems upset, but also unwilling to voice the reason behind it. Regardless, Todd thinks he can guess.

“I am not leaving you here,” he says, and he’s fairly sure that’s relief spreading across Sheppard’s face.

Sheppard is staring at him again in that determinedly contemplative way that makes Todd’s fingers itch to reach for him. He can feel Sheppard’s thoughts on him as well, and he feels his body warm in a predictable manner. He and Sheppard have been tiptoeing around each other over the last few days; Todd has been patient, attempting not to push for too much, too quickly, but even his resolve has limits.

But then Sheppard frowns and looks away. “Maybe you should.” he says lowly. “After what you’ve gone through, you shouldn’t have to be stuck here any longer than necessary.”

“ _No_.” Todd’s response is resolute. “You remember when we first met? ‘We _both_ go home,’ you told me then. I am not leaving you.”

Sheppard scoffs. “I only said that because I needed you to help me catch Kolya’s men in a crossfire,” he mutters bitterly. “If I didn’t, I probably _would_ have left you.”

Todd steps closer to Sheppard, forcing him to meet his gaze. “No. You wouldn’t have.”

Sheppard blinks, but doesn’t look away. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes. I _do._ ” Todd is certain he has the correct measure of Sheppard, and he refuses to allow him to debase himself — and Todd’s memory of him — for such a trivial display of nobility.

Sheppard sighs then, his mouth faintly compressed again, though something in him seems to ease.

Todd allows his desire for touch to rule him momentarily, and he weaves his fingers into the lacing of Sheppard’s tactical vest, careful not to snag the material on the sharp, hooked ends of his finger guards. “Come,” he says gently and guides him along to continue surveying the rest of the grounds.

The complex grounds on the easterly side are a steep cliff face that leads down to a rocky outcropping pummelled by waves. The sea birds hover in the air, facing into the wind.

“Well, it’s a nice view if nothing else,” Sheppard says grimly.

“I am more concerned about the location of the female,” Todd says. “She was not among the dead, and yet she is not here either.”

“Shiana?” Sheppard scans the coastline. “There,” he says, pointing to what looks like a small boat off in the distance. “That must be her. Even if she comes back, I doubt she’ll be a problem, unless she brings reinforcements, but we’ll hopefully have figured something out by then.”

Todd squints, but the boat is too far off for him to confirm the identity of its occupant. In daylight Wraith vision is no better than a human’s in terms of resolution, and his ability to detect bits of the ultraviolet spectrum do no good in this instance.

“Come on, I really need to eat something, and maybe we can see about fixing your transmitter.” Sheppard tugs at his arm and this time the human guides the Wraith around the last corner of the complex, back towards the main entrance.

The acrid odour of fuel Todd had detected is revealed to be coming from a generator tucked against the east side of the north face of the building. It hums along dutifully, and Sheppard crouches to check the capacity.

“It’s maybe three-quarters full?” he reports. “Or just under that, so at least the lights will stay on for a while.”

They enter back into the complex and into the kitchen where Sheppard proceeds to tear through the stores of food and other supplies, loading a variety of things into his supply bag. Then he grabs a plate and some fruit and dried meat and seats himself at the long table across which Todd has distributed the variety of components he has on his person.

“Holy shit, where were you keeping all that?”

Todd grins, as he removes the main body of the tracker from a hidden compartment in the sleeve of his coat. “Various places,” he says. “I will have to make do without the tools usually required for such a task.”

At that, Sheppard rifles through a side pocket of his backpack and produces a set of small screwdrivers with various ends. “This help at all?”

Todd examines them and finds he can use one of the devices with an end like a chisel to pry the two halves of the main body housing apart in order to get at the inner components. “Apparently so.”

Todd works away on assembling what parts of the tracker he has available to him while Sheppard looks on in interest, simultaneously consuming his food. At one point he makes a soft sound of surprise.

“Mm?” Todd spares a glance away from his work. Sheppard is contemplating an oblong yellow fruit with red veins adorning the outside.

“I have no idea what this is, but it’s really good. Kinda like a weird cross between a strawberry and a mango.”

Todd has no idea what Sheppard is talking about, but from the context he supposes they are fruits from John’s home world. He is pleased to see Sheppard’s hunger sated, though, just as he takes comfort in his own satiety. Idly, he wonders whether the sensation of human hunger is at all similar to that experienced by Wraith.

“It’s called an _anacar_ ,” Solen says from the kitchen doorway, and John looks up but Todd had smelled him there for several minutes already and is not surprised by his presence. He takes a tentative step farther into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m eating — your oatmeal needs work, by the way — and Todd is attempting to fix his transmitter so that our people can find us and come get us.”

Solen’s eyes are wide. “We’re to be rescued by _Wraith?_ ”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be my first choice either. No offence,” Sheppard adds for Todd’s benefit.

“None taken.” He grins toothily.

“But my people will pick up the same signal, so it really just depends on who gets here first.” Sheppard bites off a piece of dried meat and chews thoughtfully.

Solen doesn’t seem comforted by this news.

“I’ll bet you five bucks my people find us before yours do,” John says to Todd with a playful expression.

Todd is not familiar with the terminology. “Five _what?_ ”

“‘Bucks’, slang for dollars, which are money. You know, currency exchanged for goods and services?”

Todd blinks at Sheppard. He has no idea what he would do with human currency, but he huffs in amusement and returns to his task. “Assuming we can repair it to full function.”

“True. How’s that coming so far?”

Todd considers. “I need an adhesive.”

“Gotcha,” Sheppard rifles around in his pack and produces a small tube of fluid with a red, pointed cap. “That’s super glue,” he says. “It will stick almost anything to almost anything else, so don’t go sticking your fingers together or whatever.”

Todd grins. Sheppard probably hasn’t realized that Todd could easily regrow any damaged skin, but he takes the warning as the helpful advice it’s intended to be and doesn’t bother with a correction.

The super glue works just as well as the organic polymer it’s meant to replace, and then Todd is done his repairs on the existing parts he has. Now he just needs to find suitable replacements for the components he’s missing, and he communicates as much to Sheppard.

“So a power source and something conductive? Like wires?”

“More or less. It needs to be a flexible material capable of conducting an electrical impulse from one point to another.”

Sheppard thinks for a moment. “How much power does this power source have to have?”

Todd opens his mouth to respond and then realizes he has no frame of reference for how humans measure power output, other than ZPMs, which are on a scale many orders of magnitude greater than what he currently requires, and as such are not a helpful benchmark. “It does not require much,” he says. “Usually we have self-contained power storage devices small enough to fit within the housing of the transmitter itself.” He holds up the transmitter body for size reference. It’s circular, with a radius about the size of the most distal phalanx of his thumb.

“I have an idea, but I guess the only way to know if it’ll work is to try it,” Sheppard says, removing the time-keeping device from his wrist and grabbing one of the small tools he’d offered Todd. He flips the device over and unscrews the back plate, removing a round silver disk that’s of comparable size to the transmitter itself. “Dunno if a watch battery is compatible with Wraith tech, but it’s worth a shot, no?” He points out the positive and negative ends and Todd thinks it’s as good an idea as any, at this point. The only question will be whether it’s strong enough to send a sub-space signal.

“I need the conductive material in order to connect it,” Todd says.

Sheppard thinks for a moment and then glances at Solen. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any wires we can cannibalize?”

Solen meekly shakes his head in the negative.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’d be too easy,” Sheppard mutters. Then his expression brightens. “Oh! Wait a sec!” And then he’s unzipping his tactical vest and reaching into his jacket pockets for the remainder of the power bar, and it’s not the bar itself he’s interested in, but rather the foil wrapper which he slides over to Todd along with his dagger so he can cut the strips he needs off the material. Sheppard ends up eating the rest of the bar along with his other food.

“This should function appropriately,” Todd says as he affixes the pieces to the tracker using the super glue. He undoes the cuff of his coat and takes the dagger to slice a thin strip of skin from his forearm, using the tissue to wrap the conduits and the battery in place around the rest of the device. He’s pleased to see the fibres take root and grow into the main housing, given a jolt from the battery.

“Okay, that’s just creepy,” John says.

Todd simply grins, the skin of his arm already perfectly healed. When he’s done, he flips the device over and the red light on the top side is illuminated.

“Does that mean it’s working?” Sheppard asks.

Todd grins. “Yes.”

“Awesome.”

He slides the dagger back across the table to Sheppard who looks at him curiously. “That’s yours, don’t you want it back?”

“Call it a gift,” Todd says. Something in him revels in the thought that Sheppard would carry something of his with him on his person.

Sheppard is skeptical for a moment, but then tucks the dagger back into his jacket. “Thanks, I guess.” A moment later, he finishes his food. “Well, it’s warm outside and I am going to go have a nap somewhere that isn’t a hard stone floor.”

Solen opens his mouth and then shuts it immediately, but when John looks at him pointedly he says, “There are beds in the barracks…”

“Maybe so,” John allows, “but I don’t want to spend another second in here if I don’t absolutely have to.” Todd certainly shares that sentiment. “And the grass looks thick enough to be cozy.”

He gets up and as he passes Solen on his way out he says to him, “I’d stay inside if I were you. Don’t want there to be any misunderstandings depending on who shows up first.” Then he turns to Todd. “Actually, we should make a plan depending on who _does_ show up first.”

“If my Hive arrives first, I will sense them long before they can send a transport, so I will let them know what to expect.” Todd tilts his head. “I assume your people will similarly radio you, though even if they do not they should recognize me, yes?”

“Yeah, let’s just hope Ronon’s not the first one out of the jumper, else I might have to become a literal human shield.”

Todd snorts in amusement.

Sheppard glances at Solen. “How likely is it that Shiana will send reinforcements from the mainland? We think we saw her in a boat headed that way.”

“There is no Genii presence on the mainland. The planet is currently uninhabited, though there are ruins that may occasionally be scavenged. I think the Commander was hoping to throw off anyone who might have come looking for us. She would have to go through the Stargate and find rogue Genii loyal to Commander Varan, so it would take her some time at least. Maybe several days?”

 _You able to tell if he’s lying or not?_ Sheppard asks Todd, and Todd is pleased at how quickly Sheppard has taken to communicating this way.

He stares at Solen for a moment and the man stares back, wide-eyed and unable to tear his gaze away. Todd curls his lip in distaste as he brushes Solen’s mind, keeping the contact as minimal as possible. Solen twitches when he finally retreats. _I would suspect he is being truthful. I do not detect any deception, though I cannot be sure without being invited deeper._

Sheppard nods. “Well, hopefully we’ll be gone by then, but if not we’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it.”

And then Sheppard is gone down the hallway. Todd’s not surprised that Solen makes himself scarce after Sheppard leaves — the smell of fear on him is evident.

Todd has to admit that Sheppard’s idea has merit. After packing away the remainder of his components, and carefully tucking the transmitter into a compartment within his sleeve, he heads outside to find Sheppard sprawled on his back in the grass on the hill facing the beach. He watches the human for a moment, takes in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way the breeze ruffles dark, unruly hair. Todd remembers vividly the taste of John’s life that he’d fed upon when they’d first met. The flavour of it was strong, sharp, full of defiance, and every other human he’s ever fed on has paled in comparison. If he could, he would drink of Sheppard’s life simply to savour it and then immediately return it, lest he damn himself by removing his favourite human from existence. He knows Sheppard would never allow such a thing, but there are still a myriad other ways in which they may yet enjoy each other.

He turns his attention to the sea, and he gives Sheppard a wide berth so as not to disturb him as he meanders down to the shoreline. There is quite a bit of his own blood upon him, and the feel of it on his skin and clothes, and in his hair, is thoroughly unpleasant. Fortunately, he can do something about it.

Todd strips off his coat and the rest of his clothing and proceeds to wash them in the surf. He’s careful to keep the sleeve housing the transmitter from contacting the water, but the rest he gives as best a cleaning as he’s able, despite the lack of freshwater or proper cleaning solvents, and then he lays everything out on a nearby series of rocks to dry in the sun.

The water is refreshingly cool, so he strides deeper into the surf and then dives into the waves. When he comes up for air, he rubs at his skin and his hair to dislodge the dried blood and dirt that he’s accumulated since his capture. The salt is mildly irritating on his skin, so he doesn’t stay in too long, but he does enjoy being able to stretch his muscles a bit before he returns to the shore.

It’s not long before his clothes are dried, so he redresses himself and walks back up the hill to relax in the grass near Sheppard.

* * *

John is roused by the rustling nearby and he opens his eyes to see Todd sitting in the grass, long fingers combing through his damp hair.

“Hey. Take a dip in the ocean?”

“I was in need of cleansing,” Todd says.

“I hear ya,” John says with a grin. Then his expression falters. “I think the arm of my jacket is stuck to my skin.” He doesn’t mention that it’s stuck there with Todd’s blood, a reminder he’d be all too happy to erase. Truth be told, he feels fairly gross and in desperate need of a shower, but he’s instinctually wary of unknown bodies of water, or rather of what could be lurking in them. Though Todd seems to have come out unscathed… “What’s the water like?”

“Pleasant enough.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps a bit cool?”

“Mm. I’ll be back in a bit, then.” John undoes his tactical vest and leaves it, his P90, sidearm, and backpack on the hill and trots down to the shore. He leaves his boots and socks by a big rock and strips down to his boxers. It takes him a minute to carefully peel the bloodstained arm of his jacket from his skin without completely depilating his forearm, but once he does, he gathers his shirt, pants, and jacket in his arms and wades into the ocean.

“ _Shit!”_ he exclaims as the surf hits his toes. He looks back at Todd. “It’s fucking freezing, asshole!” But he continues onwards figuring he’s already undressed, and he really wants to be clean.

Evidently Todd considers it beneath him to shout down the hill. _Apologies,_ he says in John’s head. _Did you not remember that my body temperature is lower than yours?_ John grumbles as he washes his clothes and scrubs at his skin and hair. He’s pretty sure he’s not just imagining that Todd sounds vaguely amused.

He hauls himself out of the water as quickly as possible, wringing his clothes out and draping them over the warm rocks to dry, sitting on a nice hot boulder to warm himself up as well. He warms up fairly quickly under the sun, and it’s not long until his clothes are mostly dry as well. He decides to leave his jacket off, as it’s the least dry article, but he’s clothed again and clean when he trudges back up the hill.

“So you did not freeze to death after all,” Todd chuckles when John returns.

John flips him the finger, using his pack as a pillow as he sprawls on his front.

“What does this gesture signify?”

John laughs. “It means ‘fuck you’, you cold-blooded jerk!”

“John Sheppard, are you _propositioning_ me?” Todd’s expression is coy, but Sheppard can tell from the teasing lilt in his voice that the Wraith is choosing to purposefully misunderstand him.

“I’m _swearing_ at you.” John is surprised at how much he enjoys the sound of Todd’s laughter. He’s pretty sure he didn’t used to. “You are _so_ lucky it’s so warm out, otherwise I’d —”

“— _Yes?_ ” Todd asks pointedly. “Otherwise you’d _what?_ ”

John suddenly remembers _exactly_ who he’s talking to. “I dunno,” he admits. “I’d think of something.”

Todd bares his teeth in a grin and Sheppard thinks it’s unfair that he be capable of relaxing so languidly yet also seem able to pounce at the drop of a hat. “I am confident you would,” Todd says.

Sheppard yawns and wraps his arms around his backpack, snuggling deeper into the thick carpet of grass. “Later,” he mutters. “Gotta sleep first.”

Todd laughs.


	7. But My Armour Was No Match for Your Poison Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John indulges in his own very personal, very close encounter...
> 
> (That explicit rating finally becomes relevant!) 😏

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to the wonderful bagheerita, for being an awesome cheerleader in addition to an amazingly helpful beta!

John finds sleep to be somewhat more elusive than he’d like, especially considering what he’s been put through over the last several days, but he’s hoping he might have more luck once the sun goes down.

Todd is lying in the grass nearby, his long body stretched out on his back with an arm behind his head, and though his eyes are closed, Sheppard’s fairly sure he’s awake. He tries his best to focus on anything else, but his attention seems magnetically drawn to the Wraith Commander and every time it is there’s a gentle yet persistent arousal that settles low in his gut. He digs his fingers deeper into the grass and tries to sublimate his want onto anything else. He _wants_ to sleep, but clearly his body has other ideas.

Finally, he figures it’s useless to fight with himself and he allows himself a full-body stretch, reaching his arms as far forward as they’ll go, pointing his toes as much as he can within the confines of his boots. There are a couple satisfying cracks and pops at varying points along his spine and his shoulders, and when he relaxes again he feels like he’s sunk deeper into the thick grass.

Todd opens his eyes and turns his head towards Sheppard. “Are you well-rested?”

“Not really, but I can’t seem to stay asleep more than a couple minutes or so.”

Todd shifts towards him, now lying on his side with his head propped up on one arm, the other arm in front of him, fingers idly moving through the grass. “In that case, may I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What is a ‘vampire’?”

John makes the mistake of trying to laugh and cough simultaneously and he ends up nearly choking on his own tongue.

Todd ignores this momentary lapse. “You once referred to me as such, but I am unfamiliar with this word.”

“Right.” Sometimes John wonders how this is actually his life. “So, on Earth, a vampire is a mythological creature that feeds off of human life force, though traditionally they have fangs instead of a… hand-mouth? And they drink blood instead of, ah…” he searches for an appropriate term.

“Life force _would_ be an apt description,” Todd supplies.

“Yeah, usually by biting the necks of their victims.” Sheppard notices Todd’s pupils dilate at that bit of information, and suddenly the warm fluttering feeling is back in his belly. “Ah, originally, they were humans who became vampires by drinking the blood of other vampires, and there are special ways you have to kill them because otherwise they’re functionally immortal.” Sheppard pauses. “I mean, different people have different takes on them, so there’s always some variation depending on who’s doing the storytelling, but those are pretty much the main details?”

“I can assure you, I have never been human.”

John laughs. “Obviously not, but you have to admit there are similarities…”

“Indeed.” Todd thinks for a moment. “How does one kill a vampire?”

“Well, the traditional method is a wooden stake through the heart, but decapitation works too, or exposure to sunlight, which is supposed to turn them to dust.” Sheppard notices Todd’s eyes flick towards the sun, which he is currently fully exposed to. “They’re just stories,” he offers weakly.

Todd looks at him intently. “I wonder if perhaps they’re not,” he muses.

“What, you think some Wraith found their way to Earth hundreds of years ago and that’s where the myth came from in the first place?”

“Possibly. Or, more likely, that the Ancients, as you call them, told stories of my kind to your ancestors and some things were either lost or embellished in translation.”

Sheppard sits up, facing the beach, and draws his knees up. “Well, shit, now I’m definitely not going to sleep.”

Todd chuckles.

A thought suddenly occurs to John, as he glances back at Todd, that there’s another more simplistic and obvious explanation for his inability to sleep: that he’d spent the last several nights sleeping alongside Todd and that he’s somehow become used to the lullaby of that eerily slow heartbeat. He _misses_ that closeness.

John stares at the black-clad body lying in the grass. What would Todd do if John suddenly went over to lie against him, he wonders. Except he’s fairly sure he _knows_ what Todd would do — he’s been quite courtly in communicating his desire for Sheppard and the thought sends a thrill down his spine. Todd seems especially good at pushing his buttons, in more ways than one, and John’s struck by the immediacy of his _want_ to the point that it steals his breath. Todd looks over at him.

“Sheppard…” Todd rasps. His pupils widen and he angles his face towards John like a flower seeking the sun. “Whenever did you start feeling like _this?_ ” He hums low in his throat, and John can’t tear his eyes away from the Wraith, even as his skin prickles and the hairs on his neck rise.

“Like what?” He’s startled by how hoarse his voice sounds.

Todd shifts closer. “Your… _desire,_ I had not before now realized the strength of it.”

John’s initial instinct is to deny it, but he realizes he _can’t_. Todd will _know_. Maybe he doesn’t entirely want to, though. “I, uh… I’m pretty sure it’s um — a recent development.”

The Wraith bares his teeth in a grin and he slithers over, deftly manipulating a very willing Sheppard into his lap. John’s fingers clutch at Todd’s coat for stability as Todd leans in, teeth mouthing sharply up the column of his neck. “Mmm, _Sheppard_ …”

A warm note of pleasure bursts alongside John’s mind and he buries his hands in Todd’s hair, his body compelled to arousal. “Fucking vampire,” he murmurs, shivering at the sensation of Todd’s teeth on his skin. John can feel Todd’s laughter vibrate through his chest; the sharp points of his teeth as he bites at John’s ear in reproach.

John’s breath stutters sharply from his lungs and his hips roll against Todd. He can feel the Wraith’s arousal beneath him. “Wait — wait, just—” And suddenly there is space between them as Todd leans back and fixes Sheppard with an appraising eye. John feels the suspicion, the touch of betrayal from Todd’s mind pressed alongside his own, and he clutches at Todd, seeking to correct the misinterpretation. “No, no, just — go slow, okay?” He shifts a bit closer. “I haven’t done this in a while. And, you’re still kind of terrifying.”

“Ah.” Todd’s expression brightens immediately. “I will not harm you, John Sheppard.” Something about how Todd says his name sends shivers down John’s spine.

“No, I — I know. Um, can I…?” John draws closer and gently, tentatively, presses his mouth against Todd’s. He’s not sure that kissing is something Wraith do, what with those razor teeth they have, but he wants to try. He’s careful to telegraph his movements as much as possible, slowly pressing his tongue against the seam of Todd’s mouth. Todd opens to him, and Sheppard is delighted to discover that there’s a faint sweetness there, distinct from any human mouth he’s ever kissed. Todd drags his claws lightly down Sheppard’s back, and John goes suddenly boneless against his chest. “Mm, that’s nice.”

Todd’s pupils are blown so wide they’re nearly round, but his eyes squeeze immediately shut when John’s fingers sink through the mass of long, white hair and scratch at the base of his skull. A deep vibration tremors through John where he’s pressed against Todd, and he realizes the Wraith is _purring_.

Sheppard laughs softly. “Oh my god, you can _purr. Holy shit_.” It’s suddenly the hottest thing John’s ever experienced. He keeps his fingers moving against that spot that seems to drive Todd crazy.

“ _Shepparrrrd_ …” Todd shudders and his purring deepens.

John is mesmerized. He noses at Todd’s throat, feeling the rumbling purr against his face, and he suddenly wants to find the spot that sound resonates from most strongly. John kisses his way down Todd’s neck — how has he never noticed how long it is? — and he opens Todd’s coat to delve further. His other hand cups Todd’s cheek, thumb brushing over the sensory pit, and Todd’s hands grasp frantically at Sheppard’s hips, pressing his arousal up against John’s body. 

“Fuck.” Todd is _large_ where Sheppard straddles him, and he’s pretty sure he feels _ridges_ against where his own interested cock is trapped by his clothing.

Beneath the thick, armoured coat, the Wraith wears a soft, silken tunic, and Sheppard tugs the neck down to rub his stubble just above Todd’s sternum where his purr thrums like an engine. John allows himself a moment just to bask in the experience, inhaling the resinous scent of Wraith and leather, and then he’s shucking the coat from Todd’s shoulders and shoving the tunic up his torso and over his head.

John takes the time to map Todd’s body with his fingertips. His chest and abdomen would seem almost human were it not for the colour and texture of his skin. Oddly, John discovers Wraith do not possess nipples, which he supposes makes sense, as they’re not technically mammals. Nor is there any scar or other marking that denotes the umbilical pathway; just an expanse of sleek skin over hard muscle which John is happy to appreciate. There’s an interesting-looking tattoo that loops around Todd’s left upper arm, along the edge of his pectoral, and down his torso to end in a fan by his hip. And there’s another separate piece along the back of Todd’s right shoulder that Sheppard can’t see fully. He traces the designs with his fingers, scratching lightly with his fingernails in strategic locations, but he doesn’t find anything that makes Todd squirm.

Todd moves to tug at Sheppard’s shirt and slide his hands beneath it, claws prickling up the sides of human ribs. John twitches, but takes a moment to remove his own shirt before Todd can shred it in his haste.

Todd grins as he looks at Sheppard, pupils flaring in interest. He eyes the feeding scar in the middle of Sheppard’s chest, drags his fingers down the mark left by his own hand, and Sheppard quivers.

Todd immediately removes his hand.

“It’s okay,” Sheppard says. “It just tingles.”

Todd relaxes. “I must admit, I enjoy seeing it on you. Knowing that I put it there.” Todd’s eyes are full of hunger.

“Possessive much?” Sheppard chuckles. He’s since realized he can’t fault Todd for the circumstances under which he obtained that scar. Todd was a prisoner then as well, simply trying to survive, same as Sheppard. And deep down, something in him enjoys the proprietary way Todd gazes at him.

“Mmm.” Todd’s hands skim back up Sheppard’s sides and he thumbs curiously at a nipple.

Sheppard hisses, digging his nails into Todd’s back, which only prompts Todd to repeat the motion again, and again. “ _Shit!_ ” Todd presses his nose into the hollow at the base of Sheppard’s throat, in between his collarbones, and John feels the sense of Todd’s _pleasure_ blooming in his own mind, echoing through his own body, settling in his groin. “Oh, _god,_ that’s not fair.” He clutches at Todd’s shoulders.

“No?” Todd rasps against his chest. “You think I cannot feel your own arousal? Your desperation?” The wicked gleam in his eyes suggests otherwise, and the sinful resonance of Todd’s voice is driving John absolutely _crazy_. Perhaps that’s something else Todd gleans from John’s mind, because he _keeps talking_. “John Sheppard, I have wanted you for _ages_. Now that I’m to finally have you, you will know the full extent of my desire.”

Again, John feels the pulse of _want_ from Todd’s mind run all the way through him. It curls through his chest, twines down to the base of his spine, settling below his navel, and it’s _so_ _warm_. He shivers. It’s nearly overwhelming.

“I would devour you, _possess_ you, in every manner you would allow.”

“God, _yes_. Fuck me, _please_.”

Todd’s grin is shark-like in its ferocity. “I believe that is within my power to do.” He undoes his pants, sliding them as far down as they’ll go with Sheppard sitting in his lap.

Todd’s cock is indeed large, as Sheppard anticipated. The head is more pointed than a human’s, and there’s a row of plated ridges all down the underside, as well as running back from behind the head, halfway along the top.

John would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t interested to feel that inside him. His fingers trail down Todd’s abdomen to explore his cock. The plates themselves are covered in soft, smooth skin that’s a slightly darker green than the rest of Todd, but there’s a firmness just underneath that doesn’t give as easily when John strokes with his fingers. Todd hisses in pleasure and makes an abortive thrust into John’s hand, nearly toppling John over as a byproduct.

John can’t get his pants off fast enough, and suddenly Todd rolls them over so Sheppard is beneath him, sliding his own pants the rest of the way off and eagerly assisting John in his pursuit of nakedness.

Todd’s gaze is absolutely predatory as it roams over Sheppard’s form. He drags his face down Sheppard’s middle, inhaling and flaring his sensory pits, his tongue exploring the divot in John’s navel and making him squirm. John’s cock twitches, filling further, though as much as he’d enjoy a mouth on him right now, Sheppard is leery of Todd’s teeth anywhere near his sensitive bits.

Fortunately it’s Todd’s hand he feels stroking his cock, and John groans, spreading his legs so Todd can settle between his thighs. Todd’s mouth moves back up to lave at the nipple he’d ignored earlier and John _whines_ , digging his fingers into Todd’s hip, cock hardening fully between the dual stimuli.

Then Todd’s questing hand moves lower.

“Just a sec,” John says, reaching for his pack of supplies, rummaging quickly through it to find the thing he’s sure he saw when he raided the kitchen. Todd looks on in curiosity as Sheppard retrieves a vial of oil, but he seems to understand once John reaches down to prepare himself.

“This is typical for humans?” Todd asks.

“Depends on the person, I guess,” John replies. “With anal sex, lube is almost always a necessity, but I tend to like a couple fingers before I take anything larger. Though, sometimes fingers are fun by themselves,” he says, quirking a grin. “Is it different for Wraith?”

“Usually arousal is enough to relax the receiver’s body, and their partner’s production of seminal fluid eases any friction.”

“Huh. That’s awfully convenient.”

Todd watches, fascinated, as Sheppard coats his fingers in the oil and then stimulates himself first with one digit, then two, and then Todd’s left hand is against Sheppard’s, fingers feeling along the entrance to his body.

Sheppard pauses. “Um, Todd, you have _claws_.”

“Usually, yes.” Todd removes the finger guards on his left hand to reveal that the nails of his index and middle fingers have been filed back. “Sometimes we have need to be gentle with some of the hive ship membranes,” he explains. He kisses the feeding scar on Sheppard’s chest.

“Ah. Okay,” John says with a grin, applying more oil to Todd’s fingers and moving his hand to allow Todd access.

Todd’s hands are larger than Sheppard’s, so it takes a moment for Todd’s second finger to ease inside, and then he’s reaching deeper, feeling for something, and then Sheppard’s hips jolt upwards as Todd finds his prostate.

“ _There_ , yes, _fuck!_ Do that again!”

Todd obliges. Sheppard suspects Wraith must have similar internal anatomy to humans, judging from the ease with which Todd navigates his body. John’s fingers grip the grass beneath them, steadying himself as he writhes under Todd’s ministrations. There’s a slight discomfort to the pressure as Todd scissors his fingers farther apart, but Sheppard breathes through it, his breath stuttering into a gasp as Todd hits that spot again.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” John says. “Want you.” He reaches to coat Todd’s cock with more oil, though he realizes Todd is already quite slick with pre-ejaculate, and then he’s guiding Todd slowly into himself.

Slowly, slowly, Todd sinks himself deeper into Sheppard’s body, and Sheppard gasps at the sensation of fullness, groaning as he feels Todd’s hips come to rest against him.

There’s a crease in Todd’s brow ridge as he holds himself still, and Sheppard is appreciative of the time to adjust to the intrusion. He hasn’t had anyone inside him in years, especially given the discretion required by certain restrictive military regulations, though it’s been nearly as long since he’s had a sexual partner of any sort. It’s not for lack of interest, rather he just hasn’t found anyone who’s pushed his buttons enough to bother with until now. He traces the starburst tattoo around Todd’s left eye and then kisses the sensory pit in Todd’s cheek, breathing hot air against it. Todd growls and buries his face in Sheppard’s neck, rubbing those pits against the warmth of his body.

Todd’s grin sharpens as Sheppard’s fingers slip around to his back, and Sheppard suspects this is where he’ll find the majority of Wraith erogenous zones. Sure enough, John finds a ridge of stiff, vaguely downward-pointing protrusions all along Todd’s spine, starting at the small of his back and progressing up to just below the base of his neck. He suspects each spur lines up with one of Todd’s vertebrae, and though they are stiff, and likely contain bone under the surface, the outer layer feels more like fingernail. Todd shudders and growls as Sheppard strokes along the spurs, and the Wraith’s hips make an abortive thrust when he presses into the flesh on either side of them, earning a groan from Sheppard as well.

John grins and wraps his legs around Todd’s hips. Todd seems content to lie against him, face pressed to the side of his neck and purring steadily as John explores. He follows the vertebral spurs up Todd’s back — they seem to peak in height between and just below Todd’s shoulder blades — and then his hands spread out across broad, pale shoulders, short human nails scratching gently as they go.

“Lower,” Todd hums against Sheppard’s neck, and he complies, his fingers traversing their way down either side of Todd’s back. About halfway between Todd’s shoulder blades and the bottom of his ribcage, the skin gradually hardens into a platelike protrusion of flesh on either side of his back. The bottom ridge of each plate points downwards in an arc and it seems to flex against and overtop of the skin below it. There’s a narrow groove right under the base of each plate that is especially soft, and Sheppard is happily surprised when he runs his fingers along it and Todd _writhes_ against him, hissing his name and moving in him, pressing the ridges of his cock right up against the bundle of nerves that spark pleasure up through John’s body.

“Oh _god_ , what are _those?_ ” He decidedly enjoys Todd’s breathy laugh against his ear and the resulting shiver it causes.

“Vestigial elytra,” Todd says, and then when Sheppard stares blankly, “Wing covers.”

“Huh.” John tries to imagine Wraith with actual wings, but all that pops into his head is an image of Todd with giant dragonfly wings sprouting from his back. He refocuses his attention on the elytra, slipping the edge of his thumb beneath the hardened upper surface and Todd makes a multi-tonal _whine_.

“Sheppard, if you want me to last at all, you had best stop that.” Todd’s voice is utterly ragged and Sheppard loves it.

“Sorry,” Sheppard smirks. “It’s tempting to finally have the upper hand with you, though.”

“Is that so?” There’s a wicked gleam in Todd’s eyes. “May I move now?”

“Yeah,” Sheppard says, his body now quite relaxed around Todd, and he loosens the grip his legs have on Todd’s hips.

Todd raises himself to rest on his forearms and slowly draws himself halfway out of Sheppard’s body before thrusting gently back in.

“Oh, fuck, I’ve missed this,” Sheppard murmurs. The glide of Todd’s cock within him is especially smooth, and he suspects the fluid the Wraith secretes is at work there.

Todd establishes a moderate rhythm that has Sheppard panting against the Wraith’s shoulder. He arches his back up into Todd’s motions, meeting him on each thrust, and Todd shifts slightly, looking for something, and he finds an angle that brings him sliding against that spot inside Sheppard that has the man moaning and incandescent with pleasure.

“Sheppard, you are so _warm,_ ” Todd rasps against his cheek, and John turns his head to grasp that mouth in a kiss. He can’t kiss Todd as deeply as he’d like, while they move against each other, lest he risk wounding himself on Todd’s teeth, so he mouths a series of kisses against his jaw and finds a particularly sensitive spot just under Todd’s ear that he sucks at, earning himself a hiss.

Todd drags the thumb of his right hand along Sheppard’s feeding scar and Sheppard shivers at the tingling sensation, mesmerized by the heat of Todd’s eyes. Not once since he received the mark did John ever suspect he’d derive pleasure from it, though he’s happy to be proven wrong.

Sheppard bites at Todd’s jaw and then gasps as Todd thumbs a nipple, the sensation like a live-wire to his groin. His cock is already fully hard against his belly, but Todd grins and repeats the motion until John is all but writhing. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Two can play at that game, Sheppard decides, fingers trailing down the vertebral spurs along Todd’s back, pressing at the skin on either side.

“ _Sheppard!_ ” Todd growls. He drags his face against the roughness of John’s jaw, purring, then biting at John’s ear.

John feels Todd’s mind against his own, then. Suddenly he can feel the dual sensation of both his own body _and_ the addition of what Todd feels as he surrounds himself with Sheppard, and it’s nearly too much. He grabs at Todd in whatever way he can, desperate to come. “Unnhh, _Todd!_ ” He’s so _close_.

Sheppard reaches to stroke his cock where it’s hard and leaking against his belly, and it’s just the last bit of stimulation he needs to bring on his orgasm, and then he’s coming, fingers clawing at Todd’s shoulders, heels spurred against the small of Todd’s back, coaxing him _deep_ as Sheppard rides out the sensations trembling his body. “ _Yes, yes, fuck!_ ”

John is breathing hard, chest heaving, and Todd is mouthing under his jaw, thrusting more quickly into his body, lighting John up inside and drawing out his pleasure.

“Come on,” he urges, panting against Todd’s ear. “Come on, I’ve got you.” And he drags his hands down Todd’s back, digging fingers into the softer flesh beneath his elytra. Todd roars and his hips snap up against Sheppard’s while needle-sharp teeth sink into the flesh at the base of his neck.

Moving his fingers inwards, John repeats the gesture, and again, until Todd is wailing his name in Wraith harmonics, muscles spasming as he finally finds his release in Sheppard’s body.

The both of them lie there for a while, panting. John is boneless and sated where he’s sprawled in the grass, Todd a heavy yet comforting weight against him, except for where the Wraith’s chest is propped up by his elbows against the ground, the blades of his shoulders arching above John like those of a great cat. His head is bowed against Sheppard’s breastbone, breath ghosting across the feeding mark. The sun is warm even as the sea breeze dries the sweat from their skin, rustling Todd’s mane against Sheppard’s chest. John feels the warmth of his blood on his neck where Todd bit him.

Todd must smell his blood then too, because there’s a lukewarm tongue soothing the wound, lapping away the blood, and John sinks his fingers into Todd’s hair, cradling his skull.

“See? _Vampire_ , I told you,” he chuckles.

Todd gives a low, gravelly grumble. “It is your own fault for being entirely too enticing.”

“Hmm.” Sheppard’s fingers glide lazily across the smooth expanse of Todd’s hide. He tucks his nose against Todd’s temple, breathing in the mossy aroma of him. “As nice as this is, I think we’re likely to end up glued together if we stay like this,” he murmurs, feeling his ejaculate becoming sticky where it’s pressed between his belly and Todd’s midsection.

Grudgingly, Todd groans and eases himself off and out of Sheppard’s body. Sheppard immediately misses the feel of him, but is mollified when Todd returns with his tunic to wipe at the come on John’s and his skin. “I will return,” he says, kissing Sheppard’s mouth.

“Mmkay.” John’s fingers trail along Todd’s arm as he retreats down to the shore.

When he does return, he spreads his freshly rinsed tunic in the grass to dry and stretches himself out alongside Sheppard.

John presses himself into Todd’s chest, curling an arm around his back. His fingers are drawn to the finely-grooved surface of Todd’s elytra, playing across the hard shell-like portion as if his skin is addicted to the texture. Todd doesn’t seem to mind, and Sheppard figures only the skin beneath them is sensitive. He tangles his legs with Todd’s, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles and especially in his ass.

“Ugh, you’re going to ruin me for sex with anyone else ever again,” John laments.

Todd laughs that musical laugh of his and gathers Sheppard more closely against him. “We have evolved effective methods for keeping our queens satisfied, lest we be removed from the gene pool,” he says, and Sheppard thinks he must be referring to the shape of the Wraith’s cock.

“Well, no complaints here,” John says. He doesn’t think his prostate’s ever been so thoroughly stimulated. “Might hurt to walk for a bit though.” He grins.

“Have I injured you?” Todd is immediately worried.

John chuckles. “No, no, it’s a good hurt, trust me.” His eyes close as he feels Todd’s hand card through his hair.

“Never had I thought I would so desire to engage in intercourse with a human,” Todd says wonderingly.

John looks up. “Never? Not in, what, over ten thousand years?” Sometimes he finds it baffling how incredibly old Todd actually is.

“No.”

That warm feeling is back in John’s chest and he hides his face against Todd’s neck. “I’m… really not that special.”

“You are,” Todd says simply, and a new sort of warmth suffuses Sheppard. He knows this emotion is coming from Todd, and he doesn’t understand why it makes him feel awkward and exposed when the feeling of Todd’s arousal from earlier didn’t. Todd nuzzles into his hair. “I will have to teach you how to shield against mental intrusions if you continue to find this so distressing.” Todd’s tone is light, but there’s an edge of unhappiness too. “Though, perhaps now you are worn out enough to sleep?” Sheppard can _hear_ him grinning as he preens.

John snorts as he shuts his eyes and relaxes fully into Todd. “God, I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm particularly proud of this chapter, as it's my very first foray into writing smut - ever. So please let me know what you think - comments are a writer's drug of choice! Even the briefest feedback makes my day!
> 
> Thanks to everyone so far who's commented and/or left kudos! Cheers, all!


	8. I Stretch My Heart to Heal Some More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings, and philosophy, and seafood, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to bagheerita for beta reading. You continually rock my socks.

John opens his eyes and for a moment he has no idea where he is. He looks around at the drab walls of his prison and for a second he fears he dreamed his and Todd’s entire escape. But no. This is Kolya’s dungeon.

He’s in the same cell he’d been in originally, and his first instinct is to bolt towards the neighbouring compartment.

“Todd! Todd?”

But there’s no reply. No movement or sound at all coming from the next cell. It’s empty.

“Ah, Colonel Sheppard! Just in time to join our festivities,” Acastus Kolya says from just outside the bars of John’s cell, and he turns to see Todd bound and gagged in the same chair Sheppard had been tied to when Todd first fed from him. Kolya is standing beside him, and on his other side is Commander Varan.

“The fuck — ?” John would really like to know what’s going on.

“Don’t worry,” Varan says to Kolya, “I’m sure he’ll be just as ineffective this time.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Kolya sneers. “Tell me, Sheppard, how many times were you forced to leave your people behind?”

“Well, there was that time he got his chopper shot down while trying to save my sorry ass. What a mess that was.”

A chill runs down John’s spine as he turns to find Captain Holland leaning against the back wall of his cell. He shakes his head. This can’t be real.

“Couldn’t save me either, could you, sir?” Ford chimes in from the far side of the cell. He stares eerily at John with one entirely dark eye and something cold forms in John’s gut.

“The _hell_ is this?” John growls, slamming the bars of his cell. “Let me out!”

“Why?” a new voice says from outside John’s cell, and a hollow void opens up inside him. He knows that voice. “What good would it do?”

John’s heart crawls up into his throat as Elizabeth Weir steps into the light from behind Todd’s chair.

“It’s not as if you were able to save anyone here, were you?” she says pointedly. “You certainly couldn’t save me.”

John doesn’t even try to respond. She’s exactly as he remembers, and it hurts to look at her, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

“At least he didn’t _kill_ you,” a gruff voice says, and suddenly Colonel Sumner is sitting on the cell floor up against the wall.

“Sounds like he might as well have,” Kolya suggests. Beside him, Todd thrashes in the chair, trying in vain to break free.

“Quiet,” Varan says, and he presses the stun weapon in his hand against Todd’s chest. Todd screams behind his gag, the device causing his body to spasm uncontrollably.

“Stop it!” John yells.

“Why don’t _you_ stop it, John?” asks Elizabeth. “You couldn’t stop it when you were in the same cell together, how are you going to stop it now that there are bars separating you?”

Varan presses the device to Todd’s chest again, and again the Wraith jerks and spasms.

“You son of a bitch! Don’t touch him!” John grabs the bars and shoves at them as hard as he can.

“You can’t stop it, Sheppard, why bother trying?” Kolya smirks.

“He just can’t help himself,” Elizabeth says sadly, and her words hurt most of all.

Todd spasms again and John is forced to watch helplessly from behind the bars. His hands become suddenly fixed to the iron and he’s powerless to remove himself, stuck ineffectually fighting the prison he’s now fused to. There’s nothing he can do. He can’t stop it. He can’t stop any of it, and the proof is all around him.

* * *

“Sheppard!”

Sheppard jerks awake shouting “Stop it, stop it!” and flailing his arms, though he feels that they’re restrained.

“Sheppard, be calm!” Todd says from immediately beside him.

It’s dark, so John’s only got starlight to see by, but Todd is holding John’s wrists in his grasp. “Shit. Did I hit you?”

“No.” Todd tilts his head. “I did not want you to harm yourself. You were dreaming.” He loosens his grip on Sheppard’s wrists and John rubs at his face.

“Sorry,” he says. He notices both he and Todd are still nude, though Todd must have pulled his coat over both of them at some point because it lies haphazardly across their legs. He shivers slightly in the breeze and Todd pulls him back down against him so Sheppard’s back is against Todd’s chest. Todd pulls the coat back over them and then wraps his arm back around Sheppard to rest against his chest.

The only ambient sounds are the waves against the shore and what must be some sort of alien cricket making soft musical sounds off in the long grasses.

“What was it that you were unable to stop?” Todd asks softly, burying his nose in the hair at John’s nape. Sheppard can feel the puff of Todd’s breath against his neck.

“I —” John doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, truth be told, but Todd just waits, brushing the pads of his fingers back and forth across John’s chest. Finally John feels compelled to break the silence. “I couldn’t save them,” he says. Maybe it’s because it’s dark and he can’t see Todd looking at him that makes the words come more easily. “I was back in Kolya’s prison, but Varan was there too, and all the people I couldn’t save were in there with me. Except for Elizabeth. She was… she was standing next to you. Varan and Kolya had you tied up and they were hurting you and I couldn’t stop it.”

Todd sighs and holds him closer. “Elizabeth… is that your Queen whose voice I heard when Kolya was holding you hostage?”

John laughs. “Elizabeth isn’t our _Queen_ ; she’s — she _was_ — the original leader of our expedition. Though… I guess in Wraith terms, yeah you could sorta say she was our Queen.” _Queen Elizabeth_. It has a nice ring to it. He wishes she were here to laugh at her unofficial title. He imagines Rodney would have made some snide remark about the _actual_ Queen Elizabeth.

“You miss her.” Todd says into his hair. “You were her Commander.”

John swallows and doesn’t even bother to correct the Wraith terminology. “Yeah.”

“It is always difficult, losing a queen,” Todd murmurs.

“How many queens have you lost over the years?”

Todd is quiet, and then he says, “Three.” And then, “But you blame yourself for the loss of your Elizabeth?”

“I know it’s stupid,” John mutters. “I’m not the only one who’s lost people. And lots of people have nightmares. It’s not a big deal.”

It’s a moment before Todd speaks again. “I suspect it would have been easier for you if you had been the one being tortured rather than the one watching it happen to another.”

John scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“If I can take a beating to save someone else from getting hurt, I’m damn well gonna do it,” John says. “But if the options are either getting physically hurt or… or —”

“— Or being forced to watch while I suffer? Thus incurring emotional damage rather than physical damage as a result?”

John curls in on himself slightly. Todd’s words are hitting far too close to home for his comfort. “I’m not _damaged_ ,” he grumbles.

“I suspect part of you is,” Todd says plainly. “Though that does not mean you cannot still heal that damage.”

John says nothing and Todd makes an irritated sound in response.

“When you become injured you require time to heal the injury, yes?” John wonders at what exact point Todd started sounding like someone’s irate parent.

“We don’t heal anywhere near as fast as you do, but yes,” John concedes. “Dr. Keller says I’m a terrible patient.”

Todd chuckles softly. “I can see why.” He presses his hand against John’s chest and rolls him onto his back so Todd can look down at him. “Why then do you not similarly allow yourself time to heal injuries that are not physical?”

John rolls his eyes. “And _how_ do I do _that?_ ”

“In this case? By accepting the fact that there are things you will never be able to control.”

“I can’t do that,” Sheppard hisses. “You would just… have me give up?” He’s not sure what Todd is getting at.

Todd shakes his head. “You are misunderstanding me. I mean to say that it is impossible for you to be at fault for things which are beyond your control. You should know this.”

“Of course, but —”

Todd gives a quick hiss to silence John. “You did not cause my suffering, John Sheppard.” His tone is harshly adamant. “Why are you so quick to blame yourself for it?”

“Because I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” John looks away and in a flash Todd leans in and bites him lightly on the jaw. “Hey!” There isn’t any blood, not even a break in the skin, but Todd has his attention.

“Semantics,” Todd growls. “There was nothing you could possibly have done to stop it. You see this as a failure, but there cannot truly be failure in the absence of any possibility for success. It is simply the way things are.”

Sheppard’s mouth sets in an unhappy line. Something in him _does_ feel as if he’s failed, and he’s not used to accepting failure. It goes against everything he’s been taught, everything he believes in.

“I would argue, however, that though you were incapable of preventing my suffering,” Todd brings his hand up to cup the side of Sheppard’s face, “you _were_ thoroughly successful in easing it. A fact for which I am most grateful.”

Sheppard inhales sharply. His mouth attempts a frown, momentarily, but he loops an arm around Todd’s neck and buries his face against his chest. He feels the slow thrum of Todd’s heartbeat against his cheek, a reminder that he’s still very much alive, unlike the rest of the cast from John’s nightmare. Todd’s arm comes to envelop him, hand trailing softly through his hair and down his back.

“Now,” Todd says after a moment, “while I cannot say for certain, with respect to the other ghosts which haunt you, I somewhat suspect that this sort of self-flagellation is a pattern with you.”

John snorts. He wonders if Todd has a couch on his ship that other Wraith come to lie on when they need to talk about their feelings. Strong hands lower him back to the grass, and a long leg knees his own legs gently apart. If visits to the shrink went more often like this, John might have gone more regularly.

Todd rests his hip against Sheppard’s thigh and says, “Give me your wrists.” John does so, and Todd holds them gently but firmly against the ground on either side of John’s head. Then, before John gets an inkling of what he’s after, he pins John’s other leg with his knee and adjusts himself so that his weight is evenly distributed atop John’s limbs. “So. Here you find yourself in a situation which you cannot control.” He tilts his head. “What do you do?”

This is not going quite the way John thought it would.

He struggles momentarily, but Todd has him pinned well. His legs are trapped in such a way that he can’t get any leverage against the ground and Todd is too strong and too heavy for John to throw him off. Likewise, Todd’s completely immobilized his arms, so all he’s capable of doing is arching his back and twisting ineffectually against the ground. He can maybe throw his chest forward far enough that he can reach his head over to bite Todd’s arm, but Todd could bite him back and he’s got far more dangerous teeth than John has. Plus, Todd could likely heal even a severe bite wound in minutes, whereas John would risk blood loss and infection.

John tries once more, throwing everything he has into getting free, and for a moment he thinks he might just be able to destabilize Todd, but then the Wraith shifts his weight and Sheppard collapses back down to the grass with a frustrated growl. He eyes Todd’s feeding hand against his left wrist.

“We can feed from anywhere, you know,” Todd says. “It is… sweeter from closer to the heart, but not absolutely necessary.”

John feels the hand-mouth flex against his forearm. “You wouldn’t,” he says. He suspects Todd is simply voicing some predatory urge, but his eyes flick briefly to his gear, his weapons, lying not two metres away in the grass. There’s no way for him to reach them, pinned as he is.

“No. I wouldn’t,” Todd agrees. The maw mouths at John’s skin again for a moment and then closes.

John gives an exasperated sigh. “What do you want from me?”

“Accept your lack of control. Stop fighting me.”

Sheppard grumbles but he relents and allows his body to relax and go limp.

Todd nods in approval. “Do you blame yourself for your inability to dislodge me?”

“No.” John can’t help sounding so indignant. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do. And…” He sighs. “I know _,_ logically, it isn’t really my fault, but just because I _know_ it isn’t doesn’t necessarily make it stop _feeling_ like it is.”

Todd sighs wearily, but he shifts so that he’s no longer holding Sheppard down. “Perhaps someone should remind you, then, periodically.” He leans down and presses his mouth to Sheppard’s, tongue seeking access, teeth worrying carefully at Sheppard’s lips. The kiss is at once both delicate and fierce, and John’s mouth feels absolutely bruised when Todd finally lets him up for air.

“Are you volunteering?” Sheppard asks huskily. His hands have crept up to Todd’s jaw and he thumbs at the tuft of beard on his chin.

The Wraith’s mouth quirks upwards in a sly grin. “If I have to.” He lies back down at Sheppard’s side. “I apologize if I frightened you earlier,” Todd says slowly, touching his feeding hand tentatively to Sheppard’s chest.

Sheppard idly grasps Todd’s fingers and gives a lopsided smirk. “I knew you wouldn’t do it.”

Todd grins and then his expression sobers. “I do regret the circumstances,” he says gazing at the scar. “The conditions were… less than ideal. Though I admit I cannot regret the act itself.”

Sheppard hesitates. “What would you have considered ‘ideal’?”

“That you would have _consented_.” There’s something warm in Todd’s eyes.

“Oh.” Sheppard isn’t really sure what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can imagine ever consenting to that. Even if you did give my life back afterwards. It _really_ hurt. Like, a _lot_.”

Todd cups the side of John’s face and strokes his cheekbone with his thumb. “It does not have to.”

“ _What?_ ”

Todd makes an exasperated sound. “We do feed each other when necessary.”

“You mean the Gift of Life?”

“That too, occasionally, though I mean we feed _from_ each other. If one hive-mate is in need and another is well-fed, the one in need may take from the well-fed Wraith in order to supplement himself. If the one being fed upon gives of his life freely, there is no pain.”

“Huh.” He takes a moment to digest this. “Wish you would have told me that back in Kolya’s prison,” he says darkly.

“Would you have believed me then?”

John sighs. “Probably not.” They lie together in comfortable silence for a while as John considers everything Todd’s told him. “Still, I can’t say for sure whether I’ll ever be okay with you doing… _that_.” It feels like a sort of rejection, and John realizes he wants to offer Todd some sort of consolation, as if to say the rejection isn't of Todd himself, but just of this particular thing. John slides his hand along the back of Todd’s, interlacing their fingers together, and he’s oddly compelled to press Todd’s palm downwards against his chest, holding it still. “I’m fine with just this, though.” Todd’s fingers twitch against his flesh, but the maw doesn’t open at all. He feels Todd curl more closely around his body, lips mouthing covetously against his shoulder, his neck.

“ _Must_ you tease me?” Todd murmurs, not sounding terribly upset at all.

John has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, but he thrills at the way Todd responds to him. He’s playing with a creature who could easily kill him — who is _built_ to kill him — and yet he knows he’s perfectly safe here. It makes him feel powerful, but he is under no illusions — he knows this is something Todd grants him willingly, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s done, if anything, to earn it.

“Sorry,” John says, though he doesn’t sound terribly contrite either. He feels Todd’s mind brush affectionately at his own and he shifts onto his side, pulling Todd’s arm so the Wraith is flush against his back.

Todd holds Sheppard close. His hand reluctantly draws away to pull his coat back over the both of them, before again resting against the feeding scar. Sheppard’s hand returns to bracket Todd’s, and then he sighs, settling off into sleep.

* * *

Wraith and human wake not long after the sun rises the next morning. They dress and Sheppard takes it upon himself to leisurely explore the island, setting off into the grassy field towards the south. Todd follows indulgently not far behind him.

“I forgot to ask you if you saw the stars at all last night,” Sheppard says as he meanders through the field.

“I did indeed. They were lovely.”

“But did you recognize them at all?” He wonders if Todd might know what planet this is by the view of the night sky.

Todd pauses. “I have a vague inkling of this planet’s location, though that information is of no benefit to us in our current situation.”

“So you know what planet we’re on?”

“I have absolutely no idea which planet this is, though I recognize enough of the stars to extrapolate roughly as to its position in space.”

Sheppard stops in his tracks and looks back at Todd. He hesitates for a moment and Todd must interpret his hesitation as doubt because suddenly his expression turns haughty.

“I _was_ a navigator for much of my life before I rose to the rank of Commander.”

John doesn’t bother to ask how long a period that would have been. He knows the answer will be so far beyond his frame of temporal reference so as to be effectively meaningless. “Figures,” he grins. “With a designation like ‘Guide’, of course you’d be good at that.”

Todd doesn’t say anything, but Sheppard notices the slightly upturned corners of his mouth.

“I was going to ask if you know how far from Atlantis we are,” John says.

Todd considers. “We are quite far,” he says. “Not completely on the far side of the galaxy, but close to it.”

John’s face falls. He doubts Todd’s sub-space tracking signal will reach far enough to be detected by Atlantis’ long-range sensors. He hears Todd approach and inclines his head to look at him.

“Even if your people cannot find this place, my Hive will,” he says. “I will make sure you are returned home.”

John smiles, but he finds it hard to shake the melancholy that’s come over him. He’s never felt so completely stranded from Atlantis since he’d been forced to spend months trapped in the Ancient sanctuary with Teer and her people. John’s honestly not sure what will happen to this thing he and Todd seem to have between them, once he returns to Atlantis, but he realizes he doesn’t want to give this up. Sheppard kisses Todd’s cheek and turns to continue on through the field.

* * *

They follow the coastline for a while, back in the direction of the shore they’d swam off of, Sheppard barefoot in the surf, now that the water is warm in the heat of midday, his boots laced together over his shoulder. Todd prefers to follow from slightly farther ashore.

“It’s really nice, I promise,” Sheppard insists. “If it’s warm enough for me, you should have no problem.”

Todd wrinkles his nose. “I’ve had enough of salt water for the time being, thank you. Too much of it is irritating.”

“Huh.” John tries not to think about his encounter with the Iratus bug, but Todd’s words call it to memory.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking that it makes sense that Wraith don’t like salt water because I remember one of the things we tried when I had an Iratus bug stuck on me was salt water and it was _not_ happy about it.”

“You were fed on by an Iratus?” Todd looks incredulous. “How are you not dead?”

Sheppard smirks. “I was, actually. That’s how they finally got it off me — they shocked my heart into stopping so the bug would think I was dead and let go. Then they brought me back.” He kicks idly at a cluster of bubbles in the surf. “Your cousins really suck, you know that? Literally.” He considers it a personal accomplishment when Todd chuckles.

Then he spies something scuttling in the sand several yards up ahead. “Oh, hey look!” And he takes off after it. He fumbles in the sand for a moment, and then brings his prize back to show Todd, who looks skeptically at the creature. It’s a crab. Or, what passes for a crab in the Pegasus Galaxy. It’s bright purple with orange legs, almost as long as John’s forearm, and it keeps trying to grab at Sheppard with its pincer-like claws, but he keeps changing his hold on it, just fast enough to avoid getting pinched.

“What is _that?”_ Todd’s face is a perfect imitation of one of Sheppard’s old girlfriends when her cat had brought her a not-quite-dead garter snake it had caught. That had been the last time said cat was allowed outside unsupervised.

“Hopefully, _dinner._ ”

“You would consume _this?”_ Todd looks somewhere between doubtful and disturbed.

“We’ve got something similar on Earth and they’re delicious. This one can’t be that different…”

“You look _far_ more appetizing than this creature, Sheppard,” Todd deadpans.

Sheppard makes a face. “Ha, _ha._ Very funny. What, looks too similar to an Iratus bug for you?”

Todd tilts his head and bares his teeth, which Sheppard is beginning to realize is essentially the Wraith version of an eye-roll.

* * *

John makes a fire on the beach that evening and cooks the crab, but not before it manages to catch his finger in its grip. “Ow! Son of a _bitch!”_ But after all is said and done it’s quite good, if a touch saltier than he’d like.

Todd looks on dubiously. “Fruit, I understand,” he says. “We live on a variety of fruits prior to our maturity. Many kinds are sweet or pleasantly sour, but this I do not see the merit of.”

“You wanna try a bit?” Sheppard holds out a leg he’s bashed open with a rock, the flaky white meat protruding from the joint.

“Thank you, _no._ ”

“More for me, then.”

* * *

That evening, they lie together, clothed but wrapped up in each other, stargazing.

“You sense your Hive at all?”

Todd closes his eyes and casts his mind out as far as he can reach. “No. Nothing yet.”

John’s radio’s been silent all day as well. “Maybe tomorrow,” he says.

“Perhaps,” Todd agrees, and then he tucks his face into Sheppard’s neck, and John falls asleep to the soft sound of purring.


	9. Just Be Still With Me, You Wouldn’t Believe What I’ve Been Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue seems close at hand, but there are complications...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bagheerita for being the best of betas and encouraging the crazy stuff my brain comes up with.

Todd awakens before Sheppard does the following morning. The sun is barely a sliver above the horizon, the sky still dusky and the air still cool, but something at the back of his mind rouses him. He feels the faintest presence where there was nothing but emptiness over the last couple weeks — it’s his _Hive_. A pleasant shiver runs through him and the feeling of hope swells strongly in his chest. It seems to be a feeling he’s associated most closely with Sheppard over his recent history; hope for freedom, hope for an end to this war, hope for a closer connection between brothers…

He buries his nose against the top of Sheppard’s head, inhaling the scent of him, enjoying the softness of that dark hair against his face. He is warmed by desire and he hungers for his brother again. Todd opens his mind to Sheppard, allowing that warmth to diffuse against the surface of the man’s thoughts as his fingertips brush softly along the exposed skin of John’s wrist, up the inner aspect of his forearm, delving as far under the cuff of his sleeve as he can reach.

Sheppard shifts reflexively against him, arching his back, rocking his hips gently into where Todd’s thigh is insinuated between his own. Todd feels Sheppard’s cock come slowly to life where it’s pressed against his hip, and he noses under a lightly-bearded jaw, sucking at the soft skin just below John’s ear.

Sheppard sighs and Todd can feel his mind come fully awake. “Mmmm… This is definitely the nicest wake-up call I’ve had in a _long_ time.” His hands find their way inside Todd’s coat, tugging the silken tunic out from his trousers and slipping beneath it. Clever fingers drag lazily up Todd’s sides, around to his back, and tease slowly under the chitin of his elytra.

Todd can’t help but arch his back up into the touch. Sheppard’s fingers ghost lightly across the sensitive skin, and it isn’t nearly enough. “Sheppard, _please_.” The lack of pressure is maddening.

Sheppard huffs in amusement, but he complies with Todd’s wishes and presses his fingers sharply up against the sensitive sweet spot.

Todd growls and clutches at John, grinding his cock against a warm human thigh.

“God dammit, you’re going to make me come in my pants,” John mutters, his hot mouth kissing up Todd’s neck.

“We can’t have that, can we?” Todd rasps, and he’s not dissimilarly affected. “You would have to brave the cold of the sea to wash them yet again.”

John groans.

Todd reaches down to undo Sheppard’s pants and he’s about to shove them down his hips when John grabs at his arm.

“Not all the way,” he says. “Just in case someone shows up before we’re done.”

Todd catches a sharp stab of excitement from Sheppard’s mind at the notion of being caught like this by a third party, though the idea seems largely abstract. Beneath that thought lies a very real anxiety about Sheppard’s team actually surprising him like this, and Todd wonders at the conflicting dichotomy of Sheppard’s desire in theory as opposed to in practice.

He resolves to ignore it for the time being, though he accedes to Sheppard’s request. He turns Sheppard to face away from him and holds him tightly to his chest with a hand beneath his shirt. With the other, he draws Sheppard’s cock out of his pants, stroking the velvety flesh to full hardness. Sheppard whines when Todd’s hand leaves him for a moment, though when he returns it’s to coat the length with his own slippery pre-ejaculate, and the sound Sheppard makes when Todd resumes his ministrations is absolutely filthy.

He bends his mind to Sheppard’s, and at the first touch the man pulls him immediately inwards, and John’s suddenly got him backed up against the wall of one of Atlantis’ corridors, plundering his mouth and grinding his mental projection against Todd’s.

Todd’s hands are in Sheppard’s hair, savouring the softness just as much as he relishes the hardness of John’s body against his own. His physical hand is still wrapped around John’s cock, his thumb stroking over the head, and John’s hips jerk as he thrusts into Todd’s hand, as he thrusts against Todd’s thigh within his mind.

Sheppard makes a ragged sound, and in his mind he tears himself away from Todd just long enough to swipe at a fixture on the wall, opening the doors beside them and tugging Todd into what must be his quarters.

Todd doesn’t get the chance to look around much because John is dragging him towards a bed. It’s oddly narrow and certainly not intended for more than one person and when John realizes this he pauses, one hand clasped inside Todd’s coat.

“Ah, right.” His voice is breathy and stilted, and Todd grins to see him so overcome by dual sensation. John closes his eyes and concentrates and then snaps his fingers and the bed suddenly widens. Sheppard sits on the bed, already unbuttoning and discarding his clothes, perhaps not realizing they could similarly be vanished with a thought.

No matter. Todd doesn’t bother to undress his mind-self. He looms over Sheppard, pressing him back into the bed, reaching between his legs. Coating his fingers in the oil John expects is merely a matter of will in the mind-space, and then he’s easing his digits gently inside Sheppard’s body. He doesn’t have to be careful of his claws in the mind-space; intent is paramount here, and if his intent is not to harm his lover, he won’t. Sheppard reaches for him, and Todd allows himself to be drawn into a heated kiss as he searches for the bundle of nerves within Sheppard’s passage. When he finds it he circles over it repeatedly, and back in the physical world John’s hips buck forwards, pressing his cock into Todd’s hand, clutching at Todd’s arms as he clutches at the Wraith within the mind-space.

“Unnhh, Todd, _harder_ ,” John moans, and Todd grins, his mind-self massaging fingers more forcefully into Sheppard’s prostate, biting at that soft human mouth as his physical self couldn’t do without causing damage. Sheppard’s voice is a high whine and Todd revels in the feel of him against his skin and in his mind, in seeing him come undone at his touch.

He feels that John is nearing his climax, and he strokes his hand a little faster, presses unyieldingly into Sheppard’s sweet spot, and then he lets go, removing the pressure on Sheppard’s prostate just before he reaches completion and Sheppard grabs at him wildly, seeking any stimulation he can, which Todd denies him, letting him slip back from the edge.

“ _Todd!”_ In his mind, Sheppard’s fingers twine frantically through Todd’s hair. His knees rise in desperation to bracket Todd’s sides, and Todd at last continues his touch within Sheppard’s body, slipping a third finger inside, opening him further. Sheppard gives a satisfied moan, arching his head back and clutching at Todd as the Wraith resumes his stimulation of both John’s cock and prostate.

Todd purrs, nibbling at an exposed nipple as he leans over Sheppard’s mind-self. He senses that John finds enjoyment in the contrast between Todd being fully clothed where John himself is naked — Sheppard seems to like the sense of depravity he gets from the juxtaposition, the sense that Todd is in control and Sheppard is merely along for the ride.

 _Control_ , Todd can do. He brings Sheppard again to the brink of orgasm before ceasing his touch, letting his lover slip back into frustration yet again, and Sheppard grabs at him roughly, growling his name. On the physical plane, John reaches desperately to stimulate himself where Todd has ceased doing so, but Todd easily bats his hands away, his other arm reaching around to restrain Sheppard’s hands when he tries again to touch his cock.

“ _Todd!_ _Todd_ , _please!_ Oh, _god_ , let me come…”

Todd presses all three fingers back into that sweet spot, and Sheppard is wild with sensation. He writhes on the bed in his mind, while his body thrusts frantically into Todd’s hand, and this time Todd doesn’t let up. He circles the nerve cluster repeatedly, pressing directly into it, while his actual hand thumbs under the head of John’s cock, and then John comes _hard_ into the grass, gasping Todd’s name, shuddering in his arms.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sheppard sighs. “That was…” And he doesn’t seem to find the appropriate words so he settles for “Fuck.”

Todd chuckles warmly against the back of his neck, sucking at that spot he likes at the base of John’s ear, and Sheppard hums in satisfaction.

It’s a few minutes before Sheppard is capable of doing much more than catching his breath, but then he rolls lazily towards Todd. “Did you…?” He trails a hand down Todd’s body, slipping into Todd’s already open trousers and strokes warmly against slick, heated flesh. “You didn’t.” He grins and pushes Todd over onto his back, leaning over him. Suddenly John seems slightly nervous. “I’m assuming Wraith don’t normally do this, what with your teeth and all, so don’t freak out, okay?” And before Todd can ask for more information, John’s sunk down overtop of him to take Todd’s cock in his mouth.

Todd’s first instinct is to be alarmed that there are _teeth_ in the vicinity of his cock, but then he remembers that Sheppard’s teeth are not capable of the same sort of damage that Wraith teeth can so easily inflict. Todd forces himself to relax. John is correct in that Wraith would never attempt to perform this act on one another. Or at least, certainly not so cavalierly.

The heat of John’s mouth is incredible, and the sound that escapes Todd’s lips is somewhere between a growl and a whine. He’s only just able to stop himself from thrusting up into Sheppard’s mouth, hands clawing at the ground, fingers tangling in the grass as Sheppard sucks at him, tongue pressing into the ridges along the underside of his cock. He feels the lightest touch of blunt teeth just behind the head of him and he’s unable to keep from jerking into that wet heat, though Sheppard doesn’t seem to mind, leaning more heavily into Todd’s hips, holding him down as best he can. He’s already close, having felt the echo of Sheppard’s own climax in his mind, and he feels the pleasure Sheppard takes in performing this act. Where John’s mouth has stopped short of engulfing all of him, Todd feels the man’s fingers stroking, wrapping at his base, and then the tip of a tongue presses into his slit and he tugs at John’s hair, snarling his surname, but Sheppard swallows him all the way down as he comes.

John’s tongue laves gently at Todd’s softening flesh as the Wraith lies gasping in the grass. After a few minutes the stimulation becomes too much for his oversensitive skin and he whines, tugging John’s arms so he pulls off Todd’s cock and moves up to rest against Todd’s chest. Sheppard has never before seemed more beautiful to him than he does in this moment — mischievous nearly-green eyes, flushed cheeks, and dark, eternally unkempt hair — and Todd cradles his face as he brings their mouths together, tasting himself on John’s tongue. He laps at the corners of Sheppard’s mouth where a bit of come has overflowed, making a wholly satisfied sound.

“So?” John asks breathily. “Was I right?”

“Hmmm?” Todd can’t remember him asking a question.

“Was I right in assuming you’ve never done that before? Tell me I didn’t totally just blow your mind.” His smile nearly splits his face.

“Mind? _What_ mind?” Todd grins. “I am simply an empty drone set to do your bidding,” he drawls, letting his eyes slide shut as he strokes lazily through John’s hair. John laughs, tracing the mark around Todd’s eye, and Todd’s facial pit flares as a warm human digit trails past it. He coaxes Sheppard to lie against him, and turns his face into the top of John’s head. “I felt my Hive earlier,” he murmurs.

John stiffens beside him, reaching frantically to tuck himself back into his clothes, but Todd stills his arms.

“Shhhh, they are still a ways off from reaching us. Just lie here with me.” And John relents, though Todd can still sense an underlying anxiety in him. “Do you trust me?” he asks, meeting Sheppard’s gaze.

John doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Of course I do.” Todd’s mind warms at the admission. He marvels at having earned such a thing and vows himself to continue to be worthy of it.

“Then trust me when I say you have nothing to fear.”

“Okay,” Sheppard says, and Todd is irrationally pleased by this.

* * *

Later, John is digging through his bag for the assorted fruits he’s packed away while Todd lies in the grass revelling in the feeling of _Hive_.

“What’s it like?” John asks as he inspects an _igrat_ — an oblong purple fruit with a smooth skin.

Todd looks over. “That one is quite good. A bit sour, and the texture is pleasing, though you will want to remove the skin first.”

“No,” John shakes his head. “I meant…” And he maybe doesn’t find the words he’s looking for, but he touches his temple and then motions vaguely towards the sky.

“Ah. You mean the hive-sense.”

John nods, using the knife he calls a ‘Ka-bar’ to skin the igrat, revealing the white flesh beneath.

Todd isn’t himself immediately sure which words to use. “It is… comforting, a sense of belonging… and purpose…” He’s not really satisfied with this description and he thinks it shows on his face because John offers his own interpretation.

“Like family?”

Todd tilts his head. “Perhaps, though hive mates are not always related by blood, other than those borne by the queen.”

“We have a concept called ‘found family’ where your friends and loved ones function as your family, especially if you and your blood relatives don’t see eye to eye,” Sheppard says, the last a darkly muttered afterthought.

“This is your own experience?” Todd wonders. He’s curious as to what sort of disagreement could prompt blood-kin to disapprove of one so accomplished and virtuous as Sheppard.

“My dad,” Sheppard says around a bite of fruit. “He had a very rigid idea of what my life should be like, which was not anything I was even remotely interested in doing. That and he was very traditional. He didn’t approve of my interest in men.”

“I do not understand. Were you involved with a man whom he did not think was worthy of you?”

Sheppard laughs. “No, he didn’t approve of men being intimate with other men in general. Thought men should only be sexually or romantically involved with women and vice versa.”

Todd frowns. Such a concept is, well, _alien_ to him.

“It’s a stupid cultural thing,” Sheppard says. “The dominant culture where I grew up is very patriarchal, and there’s a pervasive social stigma against men doing a lot of things traditionally associated with women, such as being penetrated during sex. There’s a religious aspect to some of it as well, but really it’s all bullshit.” He sighs and pops another piece of fruit in his mouth.

“You became estranged over this thing?”

“Pretty much. He knew I liked women too, and he wouldn’t stop insisting that I should just be satisfied with that and shut down the other half of myself. I ended up doing a lot of stupid shit simply because I knew he wouldn’t like it.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. He died about a year ago.” His eyes flick over to Todd and he suddenly has a wry cast to his mouth. “ _You_ seem like you’d have been quite the rebellious type. I bet your parents _loved_ that.”

Todd laughs. “ _Parent_ , singular,” he clarifies, though he doesn’t elaborate as to the nature of his behaviour. “Male Wraith are borne solely from their progenitor queen. A sire is only required in order to produce new queens.”

“What? How does that even work?”

“I believe humans receive a set of chromosomes from each of your male and female progenitors, yes?” John nods and Todd continues. “Queens are similar, receiving a set each from their progenitor queen and their Wraith sire. With male Wraith, we receive only a single set from our progenitor queen.”

“Weird.”

“No stranger than your method,” Todd counters pointedly with a smirk. He finds it intriguing to examine his people through Sheppard’s unique lens. The distinctions between them are fascinating, both biologically and culturally. Though he is admittedly disturbed by the reason for Sheppard’s estrangement with his late sire.

“I guess not,” Sheppard considers. He slices off another piece of fruit. “Hey, did you want a bit of this? I know you don’t really need to eat, but you mentioned liking fruit the other day, so…”

“Why not?” Todd sits up and smiles as he spears the proffered morsel with a claw and pops it into his mouth. The flavour is just as he remembers from ages ago, a pleasant sourness that floods against his tongue. He chews lightly, swallows, and then realizes Sheppard is staring at him. “What is it?”

Sheppard blushes slightly, a reflex Todd does not think he will soon tire of seeing. He hasn’t had cause to notice it much before, in humans, though somehow he finds it endlessly endearing on Sheppard.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Wraith actually eat before.”

“Such acts can be pleasurable,” Todd says, “though we gain no sustenance from doing so past our maturity.” And he reaches for another piece, seeking the warmth of John’s eyes on him again. “I notice you are no longer hesitant to eat in my presence,” he says pointedly.

Sheppard tilts his head in consideration, as if only just realizing this is true. “I — you were starving.” He looks away. “It seemed… wrong to flaunt that I was eating when you… _weren’t_.”

“I was not yet so far gone that I’d have minded,” Todd says softly. He is, nonetheless, touched by Sheppard’s sentiment.

“Still,” Sheppard insists. “For us, eating is often a communal thing, so it’s just weird sometimes, to be the only one doing it. Especially if other people are watching you.”

“Then I shall eat with you,” Todd says, reaching for another piece of fruit.

Sheppard smiles fondly.

“I suppose I should acclimate myself to doing so again,” Todd muses.

For a moment, Sheppard seems confused, but then he realizes the implication in Todd’s words. “So, you _do_ mean to go through with Dr. Keller’s therapy?”

“Yes.”

Sheppard does not look entirely satisfied by so simplistic an answer.

“I am so _tired_ of this,” Todd says. “This war, this mindless existence from one culling to the next, an entire species forced to sleep away centuries at a time, waiting for our prey to replenish themselves. Our entire society has become singularly concerned only with maintaining our survival.” He sighs, gazing at the organ in his hand that has sustained him nearly all of his exceedingly long life. “Once, we had art, poetry, philosophy… We have sacrificed much over the last several millennia.”

“I never knew about any of that,” Sheppard says.

“Neither do most living Wraith, I think. Only the eldest of us still remember a time before the war with the Lanteans.” Todd sighs and he lies back down against the gentle incline of the hill. He looks at the sky. Somewhere up there is his Hive. They are close now, he can feel it. “I fear if we are not willing to adapt ourselves, in light of our changing circumstances, we will be doomed to extinction, as with any creature that fails to adjust to a new environment.”

Sheppard seems to hesitate, but then he says, “There are that few of you now? We were under the impression that there are still a lot of Wraith out there in the galaxy.”

“Oh, there are,” Todd says. “We are still many, but I am thinking long ahead. We may survive the next hundred years, or two, or three, but eventually…” He looks at Sheppard and grins wryly. “You humans are no longer as sustainable a resource as you once were, what with so many being tainted by this Hoffan plague.”

Sheppard’s laugh is maybe a bit awkward. “I can’t say I regret _that_ , other than that it kills a third of the people Michael spread it to.” He finishes the rest of the fruit and throws the peel into the field where Todd supposes the small mammalian creatures and insects will make use of it. “How long before your Hive gets here?”

Todd stretches out and touches the mind of his Second. “Perhaps an hour, maybe two.” He turns to fix a lascivious expression on Sheppard. “What shall we do in the meantime?” he asks, and is rewarded with another blush on his lover’s face.

“Christ, you’re insatiable,” Sheppard mutters, grinning. “I don’t think I’m ready to go again just yet. What you were doing in my mind…” His blush deepens. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

Todd grins, and he can’t resist just stroking the surface of Sheppard’s mind, then. Sheppard shivers.

“Why don’t we play a game?” Sheppard suggests, and he digs in his bag for a small rectangular package.

Todd sits up, intrigued. He’s always enjoyed games of strategy, and he’d be interested to learn one of human origin.

“We’ll need flatter ground than this,” John says, and he drags his gear the few metres to the top of the hill where the terrain is more level. Todd follows, sitting across from him.

Sheppard opens the box and draws out a stack of stiff cards with various designs. The backs are all the same, but the designs on the front of each card vary, predominantly in either black or red ink. He leaves two he calls ‘jokers’ in the box and spreads the rest out for Todd to see, explaining the groupings of each set of 13 units within 4 ‘suits’.

“I find it odd that the queen is not the highest ranked unit in the sequence,” Todd remarks.

“Patriarchy versus matriarchy, remember?” Sheppard says. “A king is the male equivalent of a queen, and in human cultures the king usually outranks her.”

“Very strange, that,” Todd insists, though Sheppard simply chuckles in response.

The game he describes is called Gin and the object is to assemble a hand of 10 cards into a set before an opponent can do the same. Points are scored both for the first completed set, as well as for how many unattached cards an opponent still holds in their hand at the time.

Sheppard shuffles and deals the cards, and then they take turns drawing new cards from the face-down stack between them, exchanging them for cards in their hands or discarding them as they each see fit.

“Beginner’s luck,” Sheppard says in a congratulatory manner when Todd wins the first game. When he wins the second, and then the third as well, Sheppard’s eyes narrow. “You _sure_ you’re not cheating?” He waggles his fingers at his temple in the manner Todd’s learned is meant to be indicative of his telepathic abilities.

Todd snorts. “No. I am simply employing a strategy based on the mathematical probability of the cards I require being accessible to me.”

Sheppard’s eyes go wide. “You’re _counting cards?”_ At first he seems scandalized, but then he shakes his head and laughs. “Of _course_ you are.”

“It is a perfectly reasonable strategy,” Todd says defensively. “And obviously it is working.”

“Of course it _works_ ,” John says, “but card games are supposed to be more about luck than math.” He chuckles as he gathers up the cards and returns them to their package. “Too bad I can’t take you to Vegas. You’d make a killing.”

Todd’s attention is suddenly drawn elsewhere and he forgets to ask after the terms he finds confusing. His head is turned towards the north end of the building, listening intently.

“What is it?” Sheppard asks. The cards are back in his bag, and he raises his knees from where his legs were crossed, in preparation to stand.

“I thought I heard — ”

— And suddenly there’s a deafening _crack_ as something whizzes by Todd’s arm and the next thing he hears is Sheppard screaming “ _Fuck!”_ as he writhes on the ground, clutching at his left shin. Bright red blood stains his hands as he growls in pain.

There’s a second shot, and this one misses, but Todd launches himself in the direction of its origin. He hates to leave Sheppard when he’s so obviously injured and in pain, but the greater imperative is preventing more harm from coming to either of them.

As he’s almost past the building, a body rises from the long grass and turns to flee, but Todd is already upon them. He grabs at the shooter and they tumble over each other with Todd finally pinning the other to the ground, face-down. He rips the rifle from the human’s grasp — it’s Varan’s that he and John must have failed to account for — and roughly flips the body over. It’s Shiana.

Todd can smell the cloying stink of fear all over her as she looks up into his snarling face, but it doesn’t show in her expression. “Stupid human,” he growls angrily. “Why would you bother to return after you had already fled?”

“Sheppard must die for what he’s done,” she cries, her expression determined. “If not by your hand, then by mine, and I realized the Genii would only get in my way.”

Todd hisses. “No, I will use your life to heal him.” She screams as his claws set into her flesh and he opens his maw to drink her life down until she’s nothing but a withered corpse. He rushes back towards Sheppard to find the complex door wide open and Solen standing over John in shock.

He jerks away when he notices Todd, sputtering, “I — I heard gunshots!”

Todd ignores him and falls to his knees at Sheppard’s side. Gently, he manipulates the injured leg so he can better inspect it, but Sheppard _screams_ and Todd pulls his hands away.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Sheppard cries. “Why does this hurt so much?” His voice is ragged with pain. “I’ve been shot before and it never hurt this bad!”

Todd and Solen both look up then, as the whine of Wraith engines heralds the arrival of a transport craft. Todd quickly connects his mind to that of the pilot, directing them to land in the field just south of the complex, and he hurriedly gathers Sheppard into his arms despite his cries of protest. “Grab Sheppard’s things,” he snaps at Solen, and amazingly the man does as he’s told, following Todd towards the landing craft.

The ramp is barely lowered and Todd is already striding aboard. Solen hesitates and Todd turns to shout at him, “Sheppard’s word is good, you’ll not be harmed,” but he doesn’t wait for the scientist; he wants to get Sheppard still and stabilized.

 _Get us in the air!_ Todd commands his officers once he’s onboard, ignoring their perplexed expressions at the sight of their Commander with a human in his arms. He sits on the bench of the alcove along the side of the rear compartment, settling Sheppard in his lap. John’s shoulders are supported in the crook of his left arm while he reaches for his chest with his feeding hand.

When Sheppard realizes what’s happening he grabs wildly for Todd’s wrist, shoving it away.

“Sheppard, I must heal you, let me gift you life.”

“No, no… the bullet… it has to be out…” Sheppard gasps, and he’s in too much pain to speak more clearly.

Todd doesn’t understand. He looks up, hoping one of his subordinates might have an inkling, but of the four officers and six drones — two of which have hands clamped over Solen’s shoulders — he’s met with only blank empty stares.

“The bullet has to be removed before you can close the wound,” Solen pipes up. His voice is shaky from where he sits between the two drones, but Todd instructs them to let him go and motions him over to see to Sheppard.

“Can you tell whether it is still inside?” Todd understands now that Sheppard’s body will not simply expel the projectile after healing a wound like a Wraith’s would. He realizes his understanding of human medicine is woefully lacking.

Solen sits at Sheppard’s feet and carefully inspects the wound. The entry wound is obvious midway up the front of Sheppard’s shin, but Solen feels around the back of his leg. “There’s no exit wound,” he reports. “The bullet is still inside.”

Todd snarls. “Then how am I to stop him from bleeding if I cannot heal him?”

“Pressure…” Sheppard murmurs, and Solen elaborates.

“We must put pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding. Is there something I can tie around it? A piece of cloth?”

Todd looks around, and then an idea comes to him. “Will a belt suffice?”

“Yes, that would work,” Solen says.

And Todd is then trying to remove the belt from his coat, but it is difficult to do one-handed with Sheppard in his lap. Fortunately, one of his officers — he notes the wing-like marking beneath the officer’s right eye and remembers to reward this one later — seems to understand and he quickly removes his own belt and hands it to Solen.

“This will hurt, you must hold him still,” he says, and Todd grips John’s body tightly against his torso, his right arm immobilizing his legs as much as possible. Solen winds the belt twice around the wound and then ties it tightly, Sheppard jerking and groaning in Todd’s grasp as he does so. “That should slow the bleeding, but he needs a surgeon.”

Todd nods. “Alert the Master of Sciences Biological,” he says to the closest officer. “Have him ready his lab and be waiting upon our arrival.” And he feels the disruption in the hive-sense as the officer does so.

John presses his face into Todd’s chest. “This day was so much nicer when it began,” he says roughly, closing his eyes.

“I know,” Todd says. “Rest now. We will be there soon.”

Soon he will be back aboard his Hive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always considered the Wraith to be haplodiploid, like many eusocial insect species. This means that males are born from unfertilized haploid embryos, while females are diploid and born from fertilized embryos. 
> 
> I seriously can't believe the response this fic has gotten so far! You are all awesome, and I thank you all for your comments and kudos! 
> 
> Comments are my crack - please feed your fic dealer! 😜
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to come say hi on Tumblr, or ask about my writing, I'm 'DarklySnarky'.


	10. There’s a Little Black Spot on the Sun Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheppard discovers that the Wraith understanding of human medicine leaves much to be desired...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! My first Wraith OC makes an appearance! 
> 
> As always, my kindest thanks to bagheerita for her badass beta skills. This chapter ended up with a few extra snippets thanks to her prompting. (Really, most of them do though.)

John has been aboard his fair share of Wraith hive ships — he’s even been aboard _Todd’s_ ship once before — but it’s still a novel experience being aboard one in which the Wraith crew _isn’t_ currently trying to kill him. He supposes being carried bridal style in the arms of said Hive’s Commander probably has something to do with that, but the searing pain of the bullet wound in his leg prevents him from truly enjoying the shocked and uncomprehending expressions on the faces of the other Wraith as Todd strides hurriedly past them. The twists and turns down various passageways are a blur as he grits his teeth and leans his head into Todd’s shoulder, but eventually they arrive in some kind of laboratory and Todd lays him down on what seems like a long sort of examination table.

“I require your assistance,” Todd says to the Wraith on the far side of the room, but he’s already rushing towards them.

“Yes, Commander,” says the new Wraith with a respectful dip of his head. “The Master at Arms alerted me to your need. What seems to be the problem?”

“John Sheppard was struck by a human projectile weapon, and the projectile remains lodged in his leg. It must be removed before I am able to heal him.”

The Wraith biologist circles the table to examine John’s left shin, his long, thin fingers gently unwrapping the belt Solen applied as a makeshift bandage. “I see,” he says as he peers closely at the wound. He takes a set of tools from a nearby table and brings them over to lie beside John’s thigh. They smell strongly of something astringent, which John really hopes is some type of sterilization medium. The biologist takes a fine pair of forceps and prods delicately at the wound, causing John to flinch and grab at Todd’s arm. That fucking _hurt_.

“I think I may be able to reach it if he stays still a moment. Commander, I suggest you hold him down.”

“Wait! Can’t you give me an anesthetic or something?” John says frantically. Aren’t Wraith supposed to have advanced biotechnology?

Todd and the biologist look at each other in confusion.

“Something to numb the pain or put me under while you’re poking and prodding,” John clarifies. What he wouldn’t give for a _human_ doctor right about now.

“I am sorry but Wraith do not typically require such things,” the biologist says to John. “I have nothing of that sort I can give you.”

“Fuck,” John mutters. Stupid Wraith and their stupid healing abilities. He knows he can’t wait to have this looked at until he gets back to Atlantis. Even a few days journey would risk infection and permanent damage, not to mention blood loss, and he knows they’re likely much farther away than that. “Okay. Okay, hold me down and do it quick,” he says, gritting his teeth and clutching at the table’s edges with his hands.

Todd does not look happy as he leans across Sheppard’s thighs, arm holding down his hips, while the biologist grips just above John’s ankle as he reaches again into the wound with his forceps.

John _screams_. He feels the prodding as sharp, burning-hot stabs of pain lancing up his leg and he tries in vain to jerk away but the two Wraith have him held tightly in their grasp. The edges of his vision grey out and he feels how close he is to slipping into shock. “God _dammit!”_ he yells as they finally let him up, the biologist shaking his head sadly.

“It is lodged in the bone. I will have to cut it out.” And he exchanges the forceps for a wicked looking scalpel.

“Oh, fuck _that_ ,” John says, tugging his legs away and then wheezing at the subsequent pain. Todd’s arm is quickly around him and he leans gratefully into his leather-clad body. “No way are you doing that while I’m awake. Just stun me. Stun me, and if it looks like I might wake up before you’re done, stun me again.”

Todd looks dubious, but he looks to his biologist who shrugs as if to say he sees no problem with this plan, so Todd unholsters his stunner as John lies back down. Todd hesitates a moment, but John nods at him and he aims at John’s torso and then there is a flash of bluish light, and then nothingness.

* * *

Once Sheppard is stable and resting, the bullet dislodged from his leg, Todd watches as the biologist begins the arduous task of closing the wound. Wraith wounds heal so quickly that at first the biologist is unsure of the most effective means to accomplish this, though in consultation with Todd, the two of them decide that an organic polymer would be best — something Sheppard’s own tissues can use as a scaffold as they grow overtop of the material, gradually breaking it down and replacing it with human flesh.

Todd strokes his fingers idly through Sheppard’s hair as the biologist works.

“You care for him,” the biologist says. It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Todd agrees. “Very much so. Though I hadn’t quite realized how much until recently. Sheppard has twice now been instrumental in helping me regain my freedom — after the first time, I named him _brother_ , and he subsequently named me ‘Todd’ in return."

“ _Todd,_ ” the biologist tries out the name as he works. “What does it mean?”

Todd chuckles. “Apparently it’s an epithet for a predatory Earth creature known for being clever and cunning.”

The biologist laughs. “John Sheppard has named you well, Commander, if I may say so.”

Todd grins. “He may attempt to name you as well, if you are not careful.”

The biologist tilts his head and bares his teeth in good humour.

* * *

Todd reluctantly leaves Sheppard in the capable hands of his Master of Sciences Biological. His reluctance stems from the strength of his affection for Sheppard, rather than mistrust of his scientist — hive knows he is one of Todd’s most trusted Wraith, given the project that drew this one into his service; it was his involvement with the procedure to transform Teyla Emmagan into a Wraith queen for which Todd bestowed upon the biologist the rank of Master of Sciences.

Todd muses to think he’d ever so firmly attach himself to a human, exceptional though Sheppard is in many ways. Todd has rarely settled for conducting himself in a ‘conventional’ manner, and though his Hive is very much aware of this fact, he still suspects this new development may breed unrest, if not outright disapproval, within more than a few of his crew. No matter. Todd is certainly capable of defending his position, should the need arise. For the moment, he must speak with his Second, and he makes his purpose known amidst the hive-sense as he heads towards the bridge.

His Second, the Sub-Commander and the one Sheppard has previously referred to as ‘Kenny,’ is waiting for him when he arrives, hands clasped behind his back as he observes the ship’s main display. He turns to face Todd and nods deferentially.

 _Commander_ , he says in greeting, as he and Todd clasp each other’s left forearms together. _It is pleasing to have you once more returned to us._

 _It is certainly pleasing to return_ , Todd replies. His mouth quirks and he imparts a little of his experience in captivity to his Second, who snarls in response.

_You are well now?_

_I am. Sheppard was instrumental in securing our escape. I would hold our position here in orbit until I hear word that he is awake and healing._

_Of course. You intend to proceed to Atlantis once he is well?_

Todd grins. He has always valued this one’s ability to anticipate his needs. _I do._ Though he senses his Second is concerned as to the needs of the Hive. _Speak. What troubles you?_

_Commander, the Hive will need to resupply before we make it as far as Atlantis. May I suggest we detour briefly to Malus in order to replenish our stores?_

_Mm, yes that is a wise decision, especially given we now have two more mouths to feed along the way._ Todd scans the main ship display briefly before considering his Second once more. _What has been done with the second human that has come aboard with us?_

The Sub-Commander tilts his head. _He has been placed in a cell for the time being. I assume he is another human of Atlantis?_

 _He is not. He was allied with our captors, though Sheppard has made a compact with him in exchange for his help in securing our freedom. He is Sheppard’s responsibility, and thus mine, while he is aboard._ Todd considers his options a moment. _Have him taken to the meeting room last used by Sheppard’s team. Make sure he is fed, and post two drones to stand guard._

The Sub-Commander nods. _I will see that it is done, Commander._

 _Good. If nothing else requires my immediate attention, I would attend to my current state of attire._ He plucks at the bullet holes and salt stains that mar his coat for emphasis, and his Second frowns in sympathy.

 _Of course, Commander_ , he says with a slight bow, and Todd leaves the bridge in his capable hands.

Todd’s next stop is his own quarters.

* * *

John comes to slowly. He seems to be in the same place as he was when Todd stunned him: laid out on his back on the table in the Wraith biologist’s lab. The first thing he notices is that he’s no longer in blinding pain. He looks down at himself, but he’s covered up to his neck in a sort of blanket, which he is grateful for, given the inherently cool atmosphere of the hive ship. It seems to be made of a similar material as the ship walls and has a soft, yet almost spongey, texture, though the surface feels somewhere between leather and silk. The table itself feels made of a smoother variety of the same material; there is a give to the surface that makes it more comfortable to lie on than wood or metal, though it’s still a far cry from a proper mattress.

Sheppard notices that his left leg feels more exposed than his right, and he suspects his pant leg has either been rolled up or cut away in order to access his wound, though something else is wrapped around the middle of his leg and is exuding a moderate amount of heat. He’s very cozy, which is something he’d never expected to feel while aboard a hive ship.

He turns his head and doesn’t see Todd anywhere in the room, though the biologist notices his movement and approaches from where he was previously engaged with some sort of data terminal.

“You are awake,” the biologist says, and now that Sheppard’s no longer in pain, he can take a better look at him. He’s almost as tall as Todd, though not nearly as broadly built across the shoulders. His face is long and narrow, just like the rest of him, and he’s clean-shaven, though he wears his hair in a long braid that trails down to his waist. Three dark lines adorn his face, running from the middle of his bottom lip to just under his chin.

Sheppard flinches as the biologist reaches to press two fingers against the side of his neck to check his pulse. He has a precise way of moving that reminds Sheppard almost of a bird. The biologist removes his hand and Sheppard assumes he’s satisfied with his condition.

“You got the bullet out okay?”

“Yes, you will be well, given time to heal, or the Gift, as the Commander sees fit. I was required to cut the projectile out from where it was lodged in your bone, and there was a very slight fracture at the site of the wound.”

That explains why John was in so much pain. “Thank you,” he says, and the biologist looks slightly amused. John suspects having a human thank him for something is maybe as novel an experience for the Wraith as the reverse is for Sheppard.

“I do not recommend you put weight on that limb until it is fully healed, though I am unsure of what timeframe a human would require to accomplish this.”

John’s not entirely sure of that either. He has a fair amount of experience with broken bones, both his own and those of the people he’s served with, and he’s heard of recovery times ranging from six weeks to six months. Though, given that his fracture isn’t severe, he’s hoping for something closer to the former estimate.

He sits up and the biologist hovers attentively at his side. Sheppard tugs the blanket up towards his lap, exposing his lower legs. The bottom of his left pant leg has been cut away just below the knee, and there’s a purple sort of bandage wrapped around the wound with a fleshy sort of tentacle running from it to the nearest wall. “What is _that?_ ” he asks, faintly alarmed. He’s reminded of the incident where Dr. Keller nearly transformed into a hive ship.

“The Commander mentioned the tendency for human bodies to spike in temperature in order to aid in healing. I transferred one of the heating conduits for this purpose.”

John laughs, though he’s touched that Todd would mention such a thing. “I don’t think it works quite like that, but it does feel nice. Where _is_ Todd, anyway?”

“The Commander? He had Hive business to see to, but I will alert him that you are now awake.” He doesn’t make any move to do so, though there’s a moment where his expression is somewhat vacant, and John supposes he must be speaking to Todd telepathically.

John throws the blanket back over himself and heaves a sigh as he lies back down. “What should I call you, anyways?” He figures he should probably get into the habit of asking before brazenly assigning names to Wraith, after all his discussions with Todd have taught him.

“My title is the Master of Sciences Biological.”

“Whew. That’s a mouthful. Do you have a shorthand designation you’d like me to use instead?”

The biologist grumbles. “My shorthand designation is longer than my position title, though the Commander did warn me about your penchant for naming Wraith.” He seems slightly put-out, but underneath that John suspects he’s at least a little intrigued.

“Would you _mind_ a name for me to use for you?”

The biologist tilts his head in consideration. “I suppose that would depend on the name. What would you call me?”

John thinks for a moment. “What about ‘Galen’?”

The Wraith’s face brightens. “The sound of that is pleasing,” he allows. “Does it have a particular significance?”

“It’s the name of a famous physician who lived a long time ago. He was a pioneer in the fields of anatomy and physiology, among a number of others.” He hopes the biologist doesn’t have too many questions, because he doesn’t actually remember much more about the Greek figure than that.

The Wraith grins. “Then I will be ‘Galen’. Thank you for the name, John Sheppard. I suppose it will prove useful when dealing with the other humans of your city.”

“What do you mean?”

Galen looks puzzled. “My team and I have been working on the gene therapy your people developed so that we may take food as sustenance rather than merely for pleasure. Did the Commander not tell you?”

John sits up again in interest. “That’s amazing! How far along are you? Have you been able to get it to work?”

Galen opens his mouth to reply when said Commander strides into the lab and makes a beeline for John.

“Sheppard. You are well?” Todd lays a hand on John’s back.

John can’t resist the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him.

Todd grins once they separate. “Shall I take that as a ‘yes’?”

“You stole Dr. Keller’s research!”

Todd’s expression turns wary at the juxtaposition of John’s accusatory words and his excited manner. “I made a copy, yes,” he says carefully.

John kisses him again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working on it?”

“I have been absent these last few weeks and was unsure as to what the present state of accomplishment was. I did not want to promise more than was deliverable.” He looks to Galen then to fill in the aforementioned data.

“As I was about to inform John Sheppard,” Galen says, “we have made a number of advances, but we have since had some difficulty and I would request that we consult with the humans of Atlantis on how best to continue.”

“Ah. It is fortunate then that we will soon be on our way to Atlantis. I would ask that you assemble a team of your top researchers to accompany you as an envoy to consult with Dr. Keller. I have plans which I hope will further our alliance.”

Galen grins. “I will be happy to do so, Commander.”

“Is Sheppard well enough to leave here?”

“Sheppard is sitting right here and can answer for himself,” John says peevishly, and Todd slips his other arm around his waist, thumb stroking at his hip in appeasement. 

“Mm, forgive me for seeking an objective opinion. I know what a terrible patient you are.”

John rolls his eyes. When he looks back at Galen, the biologist is wearing a knowing expression as he observes Todd and Sheppard together.

Galen clears his throat. “So long as he does not put any weight on it, or jostle it too badly, the limb should be fine, given the appropriate amount of time to heal. My main concern would be for infection, as I do not have any appropriate agents to prevent such things in humans, though obviously that is a non-issue should you intend to give the Gift of Life.”

Todd nods. “I do, yes.”

John stills. When Todd had offered it in the transport ship, he’d been too concerned with making sure Todd didn’t unknowingly trap the bullet inside his body, but now that it’s been removed and he’s had time to consider it… he’s admittedly torn between nervousness and eager curiosity at receiving the Gift again. Nervousness because how could he not be, at the prospect of having a Wraith feeding organ on him again in anything other than a passive manner, and eager curiosity because he remembers the effect the Gift had on his body the first time Todd had given it to him, and so sue him if he’s interested to experience that _with_ Todd this time around. He finds he can’t help leaning into the circle of Todd’s arms around him then, and maybe being injured and in a strange place is making him feel a bit needy, but he trusts Todd to take care of him at least as well as John tried to care for Todd back in that horrible cell.

“Then we will take our leave,” Todd says, curling his arms a bit more around Sheppard. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Galen nods and uncovers the blanket so he can remove the heated wrapping around John’s leg. “It was good to have met you, John Sheppard.”

“Thanks, you too,” John replies as Todd lifts him again into his arms like it’s nothing.

* * *

“Look, just put me down,” Sheppard insists, once they’re back amidst the ship corridors. “I’m not going to hurt myself, but I can hobble along if you don’t mind me using you as a crutch.”

Todd sighs. “Very well.” He lowers Sheppard gently to the ground.

Sheppard hops on his good leg so that he's on Todd’s right side, his bad leg between them, and he reaches up to loop his left arm over Todd’s shoulder. “Ideally crutches are _shorter_ than the patient,” he mutters under his breath.

Todd huffs. “You are insufferably stubborn.” But he wraps his arm around John’s waist and walks slowly along as Sheppard holds onto him, hopping along in time with Todd’s stride.

“Oh, hey, you changed your coat,” Sheppard realizes, eyeing Todd appreciatively. “Looks good.”

“Yes. I did not mind the bullet holes as much as I found the salt irritating.”

By the time they reach the end of the first corridor, Sheppard is already breathing hard. “How much farther is it?”

“Quite far, still,” Todd says, and Sheppard grits his teeth as if he means to continue. “This is ridiculous. You are exhausting yourself when you are already injured. Let me carry you. It does not tax me to do so.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Sheppard relents. He hates being so vulnerable, especially on a ship full of beings that have him horribly outclassed on a good day, never mind when he’s injured. He does find it more than a little bit of a turn-on that Todd can carry him so effortlessly though.

* * *

John loses track of their position relative to Galen’s lab twice, as Todd navigates the Hive corridors, before he gives up altogether on assembling any sort of mental map of the place.

“Are you well enough for a detour to the bridge before I take you back to my quarters?” Todd asks.

“ _Your_ quarters, eh?” John says with a smirk.

“I can of course procure a private room for you if you so wish…”

“No, no, I was just teasing. I’d much rather stay with you, if you’re sure you’re not sick of me yet.”

“I don’t think I could ever be sick of you, John Sheppard.”

Sheppard feels his face redden and he sees Todd grin as he tries to hide his face in the Wraith’s shoulder. “You can’t just say things like that and then _not_ take me back to your place.”

“I am in fact taking you to the bridge.”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.”

“I do, yes,” Todd says, gazing at Sheppard in a way that makes him feel both small and precious simultaneously.

John looks away and feels compelled to fidget, which is how he ends up twirling a section of Todd’s hair around his finger. “I doubt anyone’s ever believed it when you play dumb anyways,” he mutters. “You could be sleeping and it would still seem like the gears in your brain are spinning.”

“ _John Sheppard_ ,” Todd says, and this time it’s the Wraith’s complexion that darkens. “I do believe that might be the most pleasing thing you’ve ever said to me.”

John has no idea how he’s supposed to respond to that, and in a panic he says, “By the way, I think I owe you five bucks.” He gets to enjoy Todd’s laughter almost all the rest of the way to the bridge.

* * *

There are a handful of other Wraith on the bridge, engaged in the various functions necessary to the ship’s operation, but they all turn to regard Todd and Sheppard as their Commander approaches. The only one John recognizes is Kenny, Todd’s second in command, the perpetually inhospitable expression evident on his face as he turns from the main ship console to face them.

“Commander,” he acknowledges in his deep, whispery voice. “Colonel.”

Frankly, John’s surprised to warrant a greeting at all, but he smiles and nods in response.

Todd nods at Kenny and approaches the main weapons console. “The main battery is charged?”

The Wraith at the console nods in the affirmative. “Yes, Commander,” he says, stepping aside.

Todd carefully lowers Sheppard to the ground and John makes sure to stand on his right leg, balancing himself with an arm around Todd’s shoulder. Sheppard gingerly rests his left foot on the ground, though his leg feels tender when he does so, despite the lack of weight on it. He settles for holding it just off the ground, and Todd brings his arm over so he can balance against the console while Todd steps behind it. John feels the eyes of the other Wraith upon him — there’s a general mix of curiosity and skepticism, though one curls his lip faintly in disgust.

“What are we doing here?” John asks Todd.

“I thought you might enjoy witnessing this bit of closure,” Todd says, slipping his hands into the control mechanisms for the ship’s weapons system. John looks up at the main display and there he sees an aerial view of the island they’d escaped from with a targeting reticle overlaid atop it.

“You’re going to destroy the whole island?”

Todd draws his attention away from the targeting screen to focus on Sheppard. “I thought you would be pleased by this.”

“By all means, level the facility; I’d happily watch it burn, but the _entire island?_ I have some pretty good memories of certain other parts of that island,” he says, grinning at Todd.

“Hm. You make a fair point.” And Todd shifts the targeting system to illuminate only the facility where they were held captive. “Firing main battery,” Todd says, and there’s a deep hum and a rumble throughout the ship as it discharges its guns. It takes a few seconds for the energy burst to reach the planet’s surface, but when the smoke clears revealing the scorched ruin of the completely decimated building, Sheppard breathes an audible sigh of relief.

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed to see that.”

“Indeed,” Todd says satisfactorily as he returns the weapons console to its usual attendant. He turns to address his Second. “Take us next to Malus and then on to Atlantis.”

“As you wish, Commander.”

Todd turns and reaches for Sheppard again. “Come,” he says, and gathers him once more into his arms, and Sheppard goes willingly for what he hopes is the last time he’ll be required to be subjected to this indignity. Though, truth be told, there are infinitely worse places to be than in the arms of his lover.


	11. Come On Let Me Kiss and Make It Better, ‘Cause Better Ain’t the Best I Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with creature comforts, a new creature, and more comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started a new job about a month ago, which I love, but it's better (longer) hours than I was previously working and thus leaves less time for me to write each day. I mention this because I don't think I'm going to be able to write a new chapter every week as reliably as I have been, and while I still have a couple chapters worth of a 'buffer', I think I'll only be able to post weekly for the next couple weeks or so before I run out of finished material and updates slow down a bit. 
> 
> Please bear with me - THIS FIC IS NOT BEING ABANDONED!
> 
> As always, much thanks to bagheerita, my awesome beta, without whom this fic would be about a fifth shorter in length. (She's always pestering me for more, the slavedriver! 😜 Though, the 'more' often makes things better, so I can't complain much.)

Todd’s quarters, as it turns out, are not too far off from the bridge, which Sheppard supposes is purposefully done so as not to inconvenience the Commander from running his own ship. The doors slide open, probably at a mental command from Todd, given that his arms are otherwise occupied with holding Sheppard, and he carries John inside where the lighting is just a bit dimmer than that of the hive ship in general, the doors hissing softly shut behind them.

The first thing John notices is that it’s warmer in Todd’s quarters than in the main corridors of the ship. He wonders aloud if that’s typical of all Wraith personal quarters or if Todd’s cranked up the heat for his benefit, as Todd settles him down on a wide sort of alcove set partially into the rear wall. It’s strewn with assorted furs and silks and pillows, a bit like a nest, and John figures this must be Todd’s bed.

“Most Wraith have communal sleeping quarters and thus are not bothered by the cold of the ship,” Todd says. “Many bodies together can be quite insulating. Even officers and other high-ranking Wraith tend to sleep communally, though usually in smaller groups than their underlings. Commanders typically have solitary living spaces, as they are often also consorts of the queen, and may be called upon at her whim. When I am alone, I prefer it slightly warmer, though I can adjust the temperature if you still find it too cool for your liking.” Todd seats himself on a long sort of settee lounge that faces the nest, leaning against the raised side.

“No, this is fine, thanks.” Then something occurs to John. “You mentioned when you were alone… How often do you typically have… uh, _company?”_ He supposes he and Todd would eventually have to have this talk — putting words to the boundaries delineating what they mean to, and what they _want from_ , each other — though he’s a bit irked that the subject should raise its head now, when John is tired and only just recovering from surgery.

Todd shakes his head in irritation. “You are hardly my first lover, John, as I am sure I am not yours either.”

“No, I didn’t think I was, I…” John sighs. “I just wasn’t sure how I fit in here, exactly. With you. With your Hive. With Atlantis.”

Todd stands and removes his coat, draping it over the raised end of the lounge, and then he steps forward to kneel at John’s feet. Gently, he brings John’s right foot into his lap and begins to fiddle with undoing and loosening the laces of his boot. “Though my Hive is currently without a queen, there are perhaps one or two aboard this vessel who might consider themselves your rivals in the pursuit of my affection,” he says with an amused air, but then his expression sobers and he lifts his eyes to meet John’s. “Though, as far as I am concerned, you have no competition.” And he holds John’s gaze just that extra moment longer, to be sure John is well aware of his meaning. “If I — if this is not what you want… Know that your decision will not affect my promise to return you to Atlantis, nor the condition of your return.” And he drops his gaze back down to focus on John’s boot, easing John’s foot from its confines, setting the article to the side, as he awaits Sheppard’s response.

“I want you,” John says, and he finds he’s uncharacteristically sure of himself.

Todd looks up, his expression cautious, yet hopeful.

“I want you,” John says again, “though I admit I have no idea how to make this work once I’m back in Atlantis. I can’t _not_ go back, but…” He sighs. “This is the kind of thing we would usually refer to as ‘fraternizing with the enemy,’” he says with a quirk of his lips. “I could be relieved of command, or even sent back to Earth.” John frowns as the gravity of the potential consequences sets in.

Todd rises up on his knees and cups John’s face in his hand, drawing him forward to press their foreheads together. “Then it would benefit us both, I think, for our people to no longer be enemies. I have _plans,_ ” he says, “that I hope will lead us to a favourable outcome for both of our people.”

John laughs. “You always have _plans_ ,” he says, “though _your_ machinations usually blow up in _my_ face.” And Todd grins, sitting back on his heels, though he doesn’t elaborate any further. Todd removes Sheppard’s sock, tucking it into his boot, and he carefully reaches for Sheppard’s injured leg, gently repeating his actions with John’s left foot, keeping watch of his expression for any sign of pain or discomfort. “I have to ask, what you’re proposing between the two of us, is this a monogamous thing? I dunno whether Wraith do monogamy or not, but I’m not really interested in an open relationship.”

Todd tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “I am not sure I understand your terminology.”

“I mean monogamy as in exclusivity,” John says. “That if you’re with me you’re _only_ with me and not with anyone else on the side, and the same goes for me being _only_ with you.”

“Ah. Yes, that is what I want also.” Todd takes John’s hand in his and turns it over, splaying it open and exploring the details with his fingers. “Not all Wraith pairings are thus; some are merely temporary or recreational in nature, though the preferences of a queen often supersedes even the most devoted of couplings between males. Such is the nature of queens,” Todd says with an offhanded, one-shoulder shrug.

Sheppard purses his mouth unhappily, and Todd must notice this because he clasps his palm to Sheppard’s, his maw mouthing eagerly at John’s skin.

“ _John_ , I have no intention of mating myself to a queen at any point in the foreseeable future. You have nothing to worry about on that front. My plans rely on _not_ subjugating my will to that of another.”

Sheppard can’t kiss Todd with his hand, so he cups his jaw with his free hand and kisses Todd with his mouth. “Then yes. I want to be with you.”

Todd sighs happily. He disengages his feeding hand from Sheppard’s palm and reaches his fingers beneath the hem of John’s shirt. “I did say I would heal you,” he says, but Sheppard stops him, taking his hand in his own.

“Can it wait until tomorrow? I realized I want to think about a couple things first.”

Todd seems surprised, but he doesn’t push. “Alright. Do you have the energy to bathe before sleeping, or would you prefer to save that for tomorrow as well?”

“You have a bath in here?” Sheppard asks excitedly. “I would _love_ a bath. Even though the ocean helped a bit, I still feel pretty gross. And I would like to shave, if there’s a razor I can use.” He runs his fingers over the stubble on his jaw that has progressed well into beard territory.

“Very well.” Todd removes his own tall boots and lifts Sheppard into his arms once more, carrying him to a side-door that opens to reveal a moderately-sized room which holds a modestly-sized pool. John is reminded a bit of a big hot-tub, and though he doesn’t see any jets, he notices the water swirls and eddies in a sort of current, so he figures the fluid must be circulated to and from elsewhere in the ship. Todd sits Sheppard down on the ledge at the side of the pool and helps him undress. He goes to a compartment high on one of the walls and retrieves a narrow blade and a small hand-mirror and places them on the ledge by Sheppard. Then he removes his own clothes as well, depositing them all into another larger, lower-down compartment, and helps John slide into the bath without further damaging his injured leg before joining him.

Sheppard sits on a ledge around the exterior of the pool, immersed up to mid chest in the comfortably tepid liquid, which he is beginning to suspect is not water. It’s a bit too slick for water, and it makes his skin tingle slightly. “What is this, exactly?” he asks, scooping a bit in his hand and watching it fall back to the pool. It’s mostly transparent, though it’s darker than water, almost like mild tea, if tea were more purple than brown.

“It is mostly water, though the ship adds a cocktail of enzymes and mild detergents that aid in cleansing.”

“Huh. And it’s safe? For humans?”

Todd chuckles. “Yes. The facilities are no different on hives that harbour worshippers.”

“Ah. Got any soap?”

Todd points to just behind John’s shoulder where there are two sort of sconces that look like they dispense liquid. “This one is best for skin,” he says, of the milky substance, “and this one for hair,” he says, pointing to the other, which is clear.

John opts first for the milky cleanser, scrubbing himself all over, though he pauses when he gets to the site of the bullet wound in his left shin. “This… feels almost like plastic,” he muses, lifting his calf out of the pool to examine it more closely. “What did you let him do to me?” There’s a white sort of material that looks like it’s been used to fill in any missing or injured tissue, but John can’t see any trace of sutures or surgical glue, and he has no feeling at all in the white material of his leg.

Todd wades over from where he’d been kneeling in the deeper part of the pool, immersed up to his chin. “Do not be alarmed,” he says, sitting next to Sheppard on the ledge. “It is merely holding your flesh together until your body can replace the material with new tissue. It will naturally break down and be absorbed gradually as you heal.”

“That’s… actually pretty cool. Feels a bit weird at first though.” He lets his leg slide back beneath the pool’s surface.

Todd watches as John unwraps the razor blade from its leather sheath and examines it. It’s different than other straight razors he’s seen, but similar enough to be identifiable for what it is, and he suspects that that’s largely due to form following function. The main differences are that the end opposite the handle is curved back into a shallow point, and that the tang of the blade is itself the handle, rather than rotating around a separate piece.

He grabs a bit of soap and lathers it along his jaw, and brings the razor up to his face, using the hand-mirror to see what he’s doing. He hasn’t used a straight razor on himself in a long time, but he manages to do a decent enough job without nicking anything. When he’s done he cups some water in his hands to rinse his face and looks at Todd for approval.

“Did I miss anything?”

Todd is already staring in unbridled fascination, and he takes Sheppard’s jaw in his hand, running his fingers along the new smoothness there. “I do not believe so,” he says softly, and he lays a chaste kiss on Sheppard’s mouth. “May I assist you in cleansing your hair?” Todd asks, and Sheppard grins.

“Sure.”

Todd reaches for the clear liquid cleanser and sinks his fingers into Sheppard’s hair, bringing it to a lather. Sheppard closes his eyes and relaxes sideways against him. When he’s done, Sheppard dunks his head to rinse his hair, and then he scoots himself into Todd’s lap, gathering more of the cleanser and reaching to lather up Todd’s hair. Todd has much longer hair than Sheppard does, so it takes a bit more effort, but Sheppard finds it relaxing as he leans against Todd’s chest, chin perched on a pale shoulder.

Todd’s fingers run idly up and down John’s back, and John wonders if Todd finds the comparatively featureless terrain of his back jarring at all. Probably no more odd than Todd had seemed to Sheppard when he’d discovered the Wraith’s vertebral spurs and elytra, he supposes. He realizes he’s not actually bothered at all by the alienness of Todd’s anatomy. These features might not have been those John would have consciously sought in a partner, but he finds he likes this body because it belongs to his lover, not the other way around. There would still be novel differences to explore and sensitivities to learn in a human lover as well; with Todd there are simply different differences, and sensitivities that are a bit farther removed from John’s own.

John massages his fingers a little longer into Todd’s scalp than is necessary. Todd’s head is tilted back, his eyes closed, and he’s purring ever so softly against John, that if he didn’t know better, and if Todd weren’t currently upright, he might suspect Todd was asleep.

“All done,” John says softly as he trails his fingers down the back of Todd’s neck. Todd blinks and dips himself backwards to rinse his hair without dislodging Sheppard.

When they’re both clean, Todd helps Sheppard back out of the pool and unfolds a large swath of silken material to help dry them both off. John accepts the soft sleep pants Todd offers him in the same black material, though he forgoes the shirt, as it’s Todd-sized and looks like it would be comically huge on him. The pants are likewise a bit long, but he makes do by rolling up the cuffs a few times. Todd similarly dons pants but no shirt, and Sheppard notices that his elytra have an almost iridescent shimmer when they’re wet, still a slightly greener and paler shade than that of the Iratus exoskeleton he remembers.

At last the two of them are comfortably ensconced among the silks and pillows of Todd’s nest. John’s eyes are about to slide shut, when Todd lays his feeding hand lightly across John’s chest.

“John,” he says softly, and John stares up at him. “You’re _sure_ you wish to wait for the Gift?”

“I’m sure,” he says. He’s exhausted and in no state to discuss his reservations properly right now, and he doesn’t want there to be any misunderstandings between them.

Todd’s expression is indulgent. “Very well.”

John grins and draws Todd’s hand up to kiss his palm before returning it to its place on his chest. Todd’s shudder doesn’t escape him as he does so — a _good_ shudder, he’s fairly certain — and he tucks that information away for another time. John falls asleep fairly quickly with his Wraith wrapped around him.

* * *

John awakens with his face pressed to the base of Todd’s neck. He inhales the naturally mossy aroma Todd exudes, a scent which has since become synonymous with comfort and safety in his mind. And maybe also with _sex,_ though his body doesn’t currently feel pulled in that direction. He’s simply contentedly relaxed, mind still half-hazy with sleep, fingers stroking lazily along Todd’s skin and elytra, wrapped up as he is in the Wraith’s strong, wiry arms.

“Shepparrrd…” Todd murmurs into John’s hair, and he sighs, a languid purr resounding deep in his throat. The fingers of Todd’s hand meander through dark hair, and John grins. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Todd seems to have a preoccupation with his hair, which he finds endearing, especially when the light touch of claws on his scalp is so pleasant. Maybe it has to do with human hair being softer to the touch than Wraith hair…

In any case, Todd’s purr sends him reliably back off to sleep.

* * *

When next John wakes, he doesn’t immediately detect Todd’s presence, and he reaches blindly amidst the nest, though his fingers only seem to contact more silk and fur. John stretches, feeling a small twinge of pain in his leg as his muscles remember they’re working with recently-injured bone. “Todd?” he calls out, thinking maybe he’s simply elsewhere in his quarters. He gets no response, which isn’t immediately alarming — maybe Todd’s had to duck out for a minute to attend to a concern of the Hive — though when he finally raises his head from the dark blankets, it takes him a minute to realize the glittering yellow eyes staring at him _don’t_ belong to his lover.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims, scrabbling instinctually back from the strange Wraith who is _way_ too close for comfort, again forgetting his injury and gasping in pain as a result. “ _Dammit!”_ He laments that the nearest object he can put between himself and this potential new threat is a pillow, but when he looks back up, he realizes his outburst probably scared the newcomer, who has retreated several steps, and is now crouched warily behind Todd’s lounge.

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in here?” John asks, lifting his left pant leg to check for damage. He doesn’t see anything other than a bit of bruising, probably from the initial injury, which is good.

A short figure immediately stands straight up and responds indignantly, “I am _allowed_ to be here, what are _you_ doing here, _human?”_

“Well I _was_ sleeping…” Sheppard mutters. He squints into the dim ambience of the room. “Are you a _girl?”_ He realizes he’s topless and clad only in sleepwear, and he tugs one of the silken blankets around himself.

The Wraith girl steps boldly forwards, though she halts just a couple feet from the bed. “A girl, _yes_ , and future Queen of this Hive.” Her eyes narrow and her long red hair swings forwards as she leans closer to John. She wears a simple, white, robe-like garment in the silken fabric the Wraith seem to favour when they’re not dressed to the nines in black leather. Something about her seems oddly familiar.

“Well, sorry, your worshipfulness, but I was expecting to find your Commander when I woke up. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

“No,” she says guardedly.

“You’re not gonna do that telepathic thing where you talk to him wherever he is on the ship?” he asks pointedly.

She looks sullen and doesn’t respond. She seems about early-to-mid-teens, and John’s certainly no stranger to teenage rebellion. He doesn’t envy Todd, having to deal with some Wraith teenager he’s picked up along the way.

“Just, stay there, okay?” he says, as an idea comes to him. He hasn’t tried this yet with Todd not being in the same room as him, but he closes his eyes and reaches for that spot in the back of his mind where he can sometimes feel Todd’s presence.

_Sheppard? Is something wrong?_

_Not really_ wrong, per se, _though there’s a teenage girl in your room who kinda surprised me when I woke up…_

He can ‘hear’ Todd’s aggravated sigh in his head.

“What are you doing?” the girl asks, suspiciously, and John cracks an eye to make sure she’s not coming any closer, and then closes it again so he can focus on his connection to Todd.

 _Do not worry, I will be there shortly,_ Todd says, and then John feels Todd ‘disconnect’ from him.

“You’re not really supposed to be in here after all, are you?” John says. “At least that’s the impression I got from your Commander.”

The girl grumbles, doing a not half-bad impression of said Commander, and then John sees the gears in her head start to spin. “How did you do that? Are you Wraithkin?”

“Wraithkin?”

“Our worshippers tell tales of humans with Wraith abilities. They call them Wraithkin.”

Ah. Like Teyla. “Nope, not Wraithkin. And I’m not exactly sure how it works, but I’m sure Todd can explain it.”

The girl steps closer. “Who is Todd?”

“Your Commander. I call him Todd.”

The girl’s eyes go wide. “ _You_ are the old friend he spoke of? But you’re a _human!”_

“Colonel John Sheppard, pleased to meet you,” Sheppard drawls. “Sorry for my state of undress, but _you_ barged in on _me_ , remember?”

And then the door hisses open and Todd strides angrily inside.

“Out!” he growls at the girl, and she instantly turns to face him.

“I am sorry! I just wanted to meet him!”

“I said I would introduce you once he was healed. Until then, out!”

She takes a step towards the door and then halts. “But, Father, he is human! How long will it take for him to heal?”

“ _Out!”_ he growls again, and she scurries quickly from the room. The door hisses shut, and Todd moves to sit on the edge of the bed by Sheppard.

Meanwhile, John’s eyes have grown large. “‘ _Father’?”_ he asks pointedly.

“I apologize. She is… curious.”

John grins. “Yeah, I wonder where she gets that from. ‘Father’?” he repeats, determined to have as much fun with Todd over this as he can. To his credit, John doesn’t think he’s seen Todd look quite so chagrinned since he’d admitted to bluffing his way into the Primary’s alliance.

“I had intended to tell you about her once you were more settled,” Todd says, removing his coat and laying it again over the lounge.

“Uh huh.” John is still grinning. “She’s sneaky like you too. Was standing _right here_ when I woke up. Freaked me right out.”

Todd grumbles. “I have tried to revoke her access to certain parts of the ship, but females naturally possess greater telepathic faculties and she has thwarted me on occasion.”

John laughs. “Well, it’s refreshing to know teenagers are a handful, no matter what the species.”

Todd does not look nearly as amused as Sheppard.

“Where’s her mother?” John asks with a not small bit of trepidation.

Todd looks away. “She was killed.”

“I’m sorry,” John says, shuffling forward clumsily with his bad leg, and reaching to wrap his arms around Todd.

“I have made peace with it.” Though Todd does tug Sheppard a bit closer.

“Wait,” Sheppard thinks for a moment, and he starts doing math in his head. “How old is she, like thirteen?”

“Fourteen.”

“But fourteen years ago you were still Kolya’s prisoner…”

“And her progenitor queen was killed over a century ago,” Todd says, grinning at Sheppard’s confusion. “The embryo was held in stasis for many years before being allowed to gestate in the ship-womb of her progenitor’s sister-queen. I was only made aware of her existence after escaping with you from Kolya’s prison.”

John takes a moment to digest that. “Shit.”

“Indeed.”

“And I thought my family life was complicated.”

Todd grins absently and runs his hand repeatedly up and down John’s back. Then his hand travels lower, skimming down and around John’s side, and down his leg to gingerly inspect his injury. Todd then fixes his eyes once more upon Sheppard. “Will you now allow me to fulfill my pledge to you?”

“Huh? What pledge?” John shakes his head in confusion.

Todd’s eyes seem to look _into_ him. “Let me give you the Gift. Let me heal you.”

Sheppard wants to say _yes._ He wants to again be fully capable and self-sufficient, and not have to rely on Todd to carry him around. Especially in light of his being stuck on a hive ship for the foreseeable future. And what’s more, he wants to experience the Gift of Life properly with Todd, rather than having it unknowingly thrust upon him like it was the first time when he and Todd had been little more than strangers to each other. But he knows the Gift costs energy, and that energy comes from the lives Todd takes when he feeds. Human lives. He looks at his injured leg and then raises his eyes to meet Todd’s gaze. “How much sooner would you have to feed again if you healed me than if you didn’t?” 

Todd looks somewhat aggrieved. “Sheppard, your injury is not so great. In order to heal you, I would need only a very small fraction of the life I gained from the one who caused you to become injured to begin with. And after escaping from that prison, I am now _very_ well fed. Barring extreme injury or other unexpected circumstances, I should not need to feed again for a number of months or more.” Todd rests his hand alongside Sheppard’s neck, stroking along his jaw with a pale, clawed thumb. “More so, that life is _owed_ to you by the one who shot you, who is also the one who caused you to be in that prison in the first place. Let me be the conduit that settles your account.”

Sheppard allows himself to be swayed by Todd’s reasoning. He does want this, and so long as he trusts that it’s only a small bit of life he’s using, he’s fairly confident he’ll be able to sleep at night. “Yeah…” he breathes. “Okay.”

Todd grins and, with his left hand between John’s shoulder blades and his right — his feeding hand — upon John’s chest, he gently lowers him so that Sheppard lies with his back flat against the bed. Todd’s fingers deftly unwind the silken blanket John has covered himself with, exposing his sternum and the shiny-smooth scar in the imprint of Todd’s feeding organ. Todd slides his feeding hand carefully against Sheppard, pressing down, and John shivers as he feels Todd’s claws gently set into his skin.

He feels the maw open against him, gasps as the tendrils extend from within and tap into his flesh, and then there is an almost indescribable rush of _warmth,_ and _heat,_ and _power_ flooding into him, lighting up his nervous system, and spreading, in particular, down his left leg towards his injury. He feels an almost burning sensation as the bone is coaxed to regrow, as tissues knit together and reform themselves according to the specifications his genetics provide.

And then his injury is no more, and he’s left with this surging rush of excess that swims beneath his skin, makes him wild with sensation, and he’s grabbing at Todd, wrestling him down to the bed in a reversal of their original positions. Todd grins as he looks up at Sheppard from where he lies flat on his back, and Sheppard kisses him roughly, panting with exertion as he presses his hard cock between Todd’s thighs and feels the beginnings of an answering arousal there as well.

“I want to fuck you,” John growls, his hands curled tightly into the silk of Todd’s tunic, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s the Gift that makes him strong enough to hold Todd down, or if Todd simply allows Sheppard to manipulate him to his liking.

“Yesss…” Todd hisses, pupils flaring as John’s hands open his trousers, reaching inside to stroke him to full hardness. He arches his back in aid of removing his shirt, hips jerking as Sheppard thumbs along the ridged underside of his cock. Sheppard’s hands slide Todd’s boots from his legs and feet, and coax leather trousers off of slim hips, and then Todd is able to reach his long legs around to bracket John’s body and pull him closer.

Sheppard’s sleep pants are already on the floor as he holds Todd down, sliding his fingers into that silvery hair, pulling Todd’s head backwards, exposing that long neck for him to kiss and suck and bite at. Todd seems to lose it a little, and there’s a rough clicking noise that echoes from his throat as his legs wind around Sheppard’s thighs, though his hands remain supine against the bed, palms open and passive.

Slipping his hand downwards, Sheppard gathers some of the precome Todd produces and spreads the slippery substance at his entrance, fingering him open. The Wraith’s body dilates more easily than a human’s, and it’s not long before John’s got two, and then three, fingers inside him. Todd whines, pressing himself impatiently up against Sheppard, and then John’s fingers find the spot they seek, reducing the Wraith to a twitching, hissing mess of sensation.

Another time, John would love to finish Todd this way, with nothing but his fingers, but right now he desperately wants to be inside him, so he uses more of Todd’s precome to slick himself up before slowly easing himself inside.

“ _Shepparrrd_ …” Todd’s eyes are half-lidded in contentment as John buries himself completely, his dangerous mouth latching low on the side of John’s neck, rough tongue worrying over Sheppard’s carotid. John groans. Todd’s mouth could destroy him and he’d happily welcome it.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” Sheppard says softly, as he begins to move against Todd, first slowly, then a bit faster. He watches as Todd’s fingers twitch in anticipation of his suggestion, though ultimately those hands stay put where they are. Todd’s internal muscles are completely relaxed against John, though his legs grip him fiercely and his hips rock in time with his motions. He shifts and finds a position where he’s pressing into Todd’s prostate on each thrust, and Todd hums, the sound punctuated with bursts of clicking each time Sheppard stimulates him. “Oh god, the sounds you make are just _filthy,”_ John can’t help but marvel. He speeds up his motions, pressing _harder,_ and Todd makes a wonderfully needy sound in response. Todd feels amazing around him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever lasted this long — maybe it’s because of the energy Todd pushed through him.

Todd is panting, gently, and Sheppard wants to bring him further along the path to completion. John tries to touch beneath Todd’s elytra, but he can’t quite reach with Todd lying on his back. Suddenly he gets an idea. He grasps Todd’s feeding hand from behind, lacing their fingers together and pulling back so Todd’s palm is splayed open. Then he brings Todd’s hand to his mouth and drags his tongue all along the feeding slit.

“ _Sheppard!”_ Todd’s body nearly jackknifes around him and his breathing spasms. His left hand is no longer passive, having risen to clutch at John’s shoulder. John repeats the motion, licking more deeply into the feeding organ this time, and Todd devolves into an utter mess, thrusting up into Sheppard’s belly just as Sheppard presses into that pleasure spot again and again.

Todd comes with Sheppard sucking at his hand-mouth, tonguing just inside the maw at a soft membrane, and he thinks the tingling at the tip of his tongue might be from the Wraith feeding enzyme.

Sheppard quickens his rhythm again, seeking his own climax, though he grins as each press to Todd’s prostate coaxes another spurt of fluid from his lover. He seeks that spot again and again, rewarded by the pleading sounds Todd makes, and he’s happily surprised to have Todd come a second time, the rippling of his muscles pushing Sheppard over into his own orgasm, and then they’re both shuddering and gasping together with the aftershocks of their completion.

John reaches for his fallen pants and uses the fabric to clean them both up, and then Todd is hugging Sheppard’s chest against his face, murmuring soft sounds into his skin.

“You alright?” John asks, stroking his fingers through Todd’s hair.

“I am _very_ alright,” Todd purrs happily.

“You seemed to forget you had hands there, for a moment,” Sheppard chuckles. Then Todd looks up at him.

“Our queens are usually quite forceful with us,” Todd says with an amused grin. “They are typically the dominant partner, though as we feed with our hands, it is normally considered a _faux pas_ to lay hands on a queen, even when sexually engaged. There can be no suggestion of a threat of any kind.” He noses under Sheppard’s jaw. “I suspect you may have provoked this instinct in me…”

Sheppard huffs a flustered sound. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like that. I just felt such a _rush,_ like I was frantic with all this extra energy and didn’t know what to do with it. And I wanted you so badly…” He keeps running his mouth trying to explain himself, but Todd stills him.

“Sheppard, I _liked_ you like that. You are welcome to play at being my Queen whenever you wish.”

John finds the suggestion both absurd and appealing, and he can’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments to a writer are like the Gift of Life! Be a dear and feed my inner Wraith, would you? 😉


	12. You Realized It’s Not My Fault Not a Moment Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheppard's first foray into stepdad life. It's not completely terrible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter simply didn't want to be written, but fortunately bagheerita helped me through it. Best. Beta. Ever.
> 
> Seriously, this thing fought me kicking and screaming the whole way. Really happy with how it turned out though. ;)

John feels Todd’s hair fall like a curtain across his face. Wraith hair may be coarser than human hair, but John likes the feel of it anyways. And Todd’s hair holds a mossy aroma that reminds Sheppard of a forest after rainfall.

Todd is seated at a table in his quarters, fingers flying over a Wraith data-pad as he goes over various hive ship schematics and double checks hyperspace jump calculations. Sheppard is dressed once more in his black BDUs — apparently Wraith have laundry services that can cope with human fabrics, the bottom of his left pant leg having been patched with Wraith silk — and is leaning over Todd’s shoulder, arms around the Commander’s neck, making a general nuisance of himself and investigating ways in which to distract Todd.

“So what did you tell her about me?” John asks, slightly muffled as he buries his face in Todd’s hair. He stretches his legs, happy to have both in healthy working order once more.

“Mmmm?”

“Your kid. Obviously she knew about me, otherwise why would she have snuck in here?”

“Ah. I told her that you were a dear old friend of mine and that you and I had escaped imprisonment together twice now.”

“That’s beginning to be our ‘thing’ now, isn’t it?” Sheppard says wryly.

“Hmm?”

“Escaping together,” he says, nosing back into the mass of Todd’s hair. “From prisons.” He finds an ear and worries it gently between his teeth.

“ _Sheppard_ ,” Todd warns.

“Specifically Genii prisons,” Sheppard continues, abandoning Todd’s ear and standing upright. Bending at that angle to lean on Todd’s shoulders was doing terrible things to his back. Instead, he sits on the table beside the Wraith and runs his fingers through all that silvery hair. “How in the world does your hair get so tangled so quickly?” he wonders, and sets himself to remedying this fact.

“I’ve no idea,” Todd mutters absently, though he leans into Sheppard’s thigh as human fingers work through the thick, white strands. He sighs. “You’re not going to let me get much done here, are you?”

Sheppard ignores Todd’s put-out expression. “Well, it’s not like there’s much else I can occupy myself with, now is there? I don’t exactly read Wraith well enough to go through your digital library, or whatever you have in the way of reading material. That’s generally Rodney’s area.”

“Maybe you should learn,” Todd says pointedly.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Sheppard says, his words dripping with sarcasm, and Todd gives him a _look._ “Sorry,” he says, “I’m just feeling pretty useless right now. And bored. Neither of which are your fault.”

Todd clutches his his data-pad in one hand and stands, pulling Sheppard from the table. “Come with me. You still have the foodstuffs you took from the facility?”

“Yeah, they’re in my backpack. Why?” Sheppard sees his pack and the rest of his gear by the door of Todd’s quarters, and he wonders if his stuff had always been there.

Todd must notice his curious expression, or sense the question in his mind because he says, “I had your things brought from the transport ship. A drone arrived with them earlier while you were sleeping. Bring your pack.”

Sheppard does so, though he also straps his Ka-bar to to his ankle, beneath his pant leg, and buckles his sidearm to his thigh. He sees Todd watching him. “Hey, I know this is _your_ Hive, but it’s still a _hive,_ and I’m still just a human snack to the average Wraith.” And though he also takes his jacket to guard against the coolness of the ship, he does leave his tactical vest and P90 in Todd’s quarters.

“As you wish,” Todd says.

* * *

Their journey through the halls of the Hive this time is short, barely around the corner from Todd’s quarters, and the room John follows him into must be the queen’s quarters, judging from the organic throne that rises from a dais towards the centre of the rear of the space. Todd steps behind the throne and John notices there’s a door in the wall there. Todd doesn’t knock; he simply stands before the door, and John supposes he must be communicating telepathically, because the door opens a moment later to reveal the slight, scarlet-haired young queen who’d surprised John earlier.

“You’re not angry with me?” she asks, looking up at Todd with mild trepidation.

“No, dear one,” he says, and whatever he might have said next gets lost in her rush to throw her arms around him, pressing her face against the leather of his coat. Todd seems slightly taken aback, and his arms raise reflexively but then stop, and he ends up brushing the back of his knuckles lightly against her hair.

John is then reminded of Todd’s words about how Wraith social customs prevent males from laying hands on queens, and he can’t help but be saddened at Todd’s inability to touch his own daughter.

“You must consider, _meomnia,_ that if I tell you something it is usually for a reason, and I believe you owe John Sheppard an apology.”

The girl lifts her head and peers around Todd at Sheppard. “I am sorry for intruding on your rest, John Sheppard. I hope I did not disturb you too greatly.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John says kindly.

She steps completely around Todd then, looking Sheppard up and down, taking in the entirety of him. “I was curious to meet you, though I did not realize you were human.”

John laughs. “Well, now that I know you exist, I admit I’m curious too.” He holds out his right hand. “Nice to meet you properly this time.”

The girl pauses, and Todd arches a brow ridge at Sheppard in surprise.

“What, I’m not an idiot,” he says to Todd. “You said to bring food, so I assume she’s not old enough to be life-sucking yet?”

The girl lifts her right hand to display her palm, and the feeding maw is no more than a raised red line with a couple claw like protrusions that will eventually be used to hold the organ shut. But it’s not currently capable of opening. “Not yet,” she says, though she looks questioningly at Sheppard’s proffered hand.

“We shake hands as an Earth greeting,” he explains. “We don’t usually do this with Wraith, but no life-sucking means we can shake hands.” At that, she takes his hand and then he slowly shakes hers up and down. “So, what do I call you?” John asks, once she drops his hand. “Do you have a short-hand designation?”

“It takes at least a century or two for a Wraith’s personality to settle enough that an applicable short-hand designation can be earned,” Todd says. “Though, in any case, queens typically have titles instead.”

“Ah. Like ‘The Primary’.”

“Exactly.” Todd grins dangerously at the mention of the dead queen, though the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he turns to his daughter. “You should have Sheppard help pick a name for you. He’ll probably end up doing so regardless, given how much he and his people enjoy naming Wraith.”

Sheppard rolls his eyes. “Hey, I’m sure names wouldn’t be as important if we were telepathic too, but given that we’re _not_ , we find names are pretty helpful.”

“By what tradition do humans receive their names?” the girl asks, looking quizzically up at Sheppard. She takes his hand again and guides him to sit with her on the edge of the dais, while Todd lounges haphazardly in the throne, a leg thrown over one of the arms as he is finally able to concentrate on his data-pad.

“Ah, well, usually our parents give them to us,” Sheppard says, and though he pointedly doesn’t look at Todd, an eager pair of eyes seeks out their father’s over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, you are not roping me into this. I wouldn’t know the first thing about assigning names. This is, how do you say, ‘not my circus’?”

Sheppard turns around, his expression incredulous. “Where did you pick _that_ up?”

Todd snorts. “I have spent much time in Atlantis, and I listen when people speak. Especially when they do not think they are being overheard.”

Sheppard chuckles and turns back to the young queen, whose face betrays her disappointment in her father’s lack of participation. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I think I have an idea of what your dad might have liked in a name for you.” He doesn’t know her well yet, but what he does know is that she’s _Todd’s,_ and like he’s seen in her father, John recognizes pride, and diplomacy, and a sharp, inquisitive mind. And then there’s that bright scarlet hair… John remembers what Todd had said about the superstitions regarding Wraith queens with red hair.

“We do like to name things,” he tells her, “but we also like to tell stories, and there’s a story I know of in which a great enemy almost completely wiped out an entire race of people. The remnants of these people struggled to survive with a fleet of ships in space, their home world having been essentially destroyed, and they were lucky to have had an incredibly strong woman to lead them. She was fierce, but she was also very smart, and she knew when to pick her battles and when to feign defeat so that she could gain the advantage later on. And she also had red hair, though not quite as beautiful as yours.”

Todd’s daughter hangs on every word that issues from Sheppard’s mouth, and she blushes a deep jade at his complement. “What was the woman’s name?” she asks softly, yet fervently.

“Roslin.”

“You would allow me to use this name?” She sounds eager, yet hesitant.

“Ah, well, you don’t actually need anyone’s permission; that’s not really how names work. You can call yourself whatever you want to, really, and if you don’t like ‘Roslin’, I can try to think of something else —”

“— No, I like it. I will be Roslin.”

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Roslin.”

She grins. “You as well, John Sheppard.”

Sheppard is facing away from Todd and can’t currently see him, but he suddenly feels a bright warmth in his chest that can only be from the Commander. There is gratitude and affection there also, and it’s so fierce as to be momentarily distracting, but he rubs his sternum to try to alleviate the phantom pressure he feels.

“Are you alright?” Roslin asks, looking at him quizzically.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”

She tilts her head, and then suddenly notices John’s backpack. “Did you say you brought food?”

“Uh, yeah.” John grins. “You hungry? I haven’t had breakfast yet, myself.” He unzips the large compartment in which he’s stashed the majority of the food he’d taken from the Genii facility and slides the bag over to Roslin. “Anything in there you like?”

She rifles through the bag and John grins at her selection. “An igrat!” she exclaims excitedly.

 _Like father, like daughter,_ he thinks, touching the spot in his mind that leads to Todd, and he feels an amused warmth in return.

John takes his Ka-bar from the sheath at his ankle and proceeds to skin and slice the fruit, handing Roslin pieces as he cuts them, popping every third or fourth piece into his own mouth.

“Father, did the Sub-Commander notify you that our food stores are low?” Roslin asks.

Sheppard’s head swivels towards Todd, his eyes narrowing slightly, but Todd meets his gaze calmly, seeming to understand Sheppard’s concern.

“‘Food’ as in foodstuffs, John, not… food for adult Wraith.”

“Ah.”

Roslin licks a bit of juice from her hand as they finish the igrat, and John realizes he has nowhere to put the peel. Wraith ships must have some sort of garbage disposal system… Roslin seems to realize his predicament and she motions to the throne room door. A drone enters. The drone approaches Sheppard, takes the fruit peel from him, and leaves. It is without a doubt the strangest and most benign interaction he’s ever had with a Wraith drone.

“Father?” Roslin prompts again.

“Yes,” Todd responds absently. “We are stopping at Malus on the way to Atlantis, and we can replenish our stores there.”

“What’s Malus?” John asks, looking from Roslin to Todd. But it’s Roslin who answers.

“It’s an orchard planet!” she says excitedly. “There’s a huge variety of fruit species, all tended by our worshippers. You must come down with us to see it!”

“Worshippers, eh?” John says. “I haven’t had the greatest history with Wraith worshippers.” He pauses. “Though I haven’t had the greatest history with _Wraith_ either, and look where I am now.”

Roslin grabs his arm. “I will protect you myself, John Sheppard.”

John chuckles. “I believe you will. I feel safer already. Oh, hey, I just remembered I still have something here you’ll probably get a kick out of…” He rummages through his backpack and pulls out a half-eaten bar of chocolate. “This is generally considered to be one of the greatest foods humans have ever come up with,” he says with mock sageness. He breaks Roslin off a piece and watches as she eagerly takes a bite. Her eyes go huge.

“This is incredible! The most delicious thing I have ever tasted! Do you have more?”

John laughs. “I think this is all I have on me at the moment, but I can get more once we get to Atlantis.” He breaks her off a couple more pieces and takes one for himself, and passes one to Todd, who is looking on with interest.

Todd seems to enjoy the flavour just as much as Roslin. “I can see there will be many additional benefits to reliance on foodstuffs for survival,” he says, grinning.

* * *

Roslin persuades Todd to let her take Sheppard to explore with her, which is how John ends up getting essentially his own private tour of a Wraith hive ship, though he has a sneaking suspicion he’s also inadvertently been placed on babysitting detail. Which he finds he doesn’t really mind, as Roslin is good company, and not even close to as trying as the human teenagers John’s met. Plus, it gives Todd some uninterrupted time to get the things done that he needs to, which Sheppard is happy to facilitate.

“And this is the dart bay,” Roslin says proudly, though Sheppard doesn’t miss the way her eyes roam longingly over the darts nearest to them on the branch-like platforms and walkways that extend into the vast space of the cavernous bay. For such a large space, it’s mostly empty of other Wraith, though there are a handful of individuals peppered here and there, attending to various tasks. A trio nearby looks on at them first curiously, and then with greater agitation, but Sheppard doesn’t anticipate staying long in this location.

“You ever flown a dart before?” he asks Roslin.

“No.” Her voice is rife with disappointment. “My father won’t let me.”

“They are a bit tricky,” he allows. The slight, angular fighter craft the Wraith prefer are indeed fast as hell, though maneuvering them takes a deft hand, and John’s never been a fan of the closed cockpit design. He much prefers piloting through a window to relying entirely on a heads-up-display.

Roslin looks at him with big yellow eyes. “You’ve flown a Wraith dart?”

“A few times.” He grins, and he’s pretty sure he’s just increased his own ‘coolness factor’ in her eyes.

“You must show me! Take me flying with you! Please?” She grabs his hand and pulls him towards the closest fighter.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so, princess. First of all, they only seat one person —”

“— I could sit in your lap!”

“— And second of all, your dad would probably have a fit, which is not a side of him I have any interest in seeing, so long as it’s directed at me.”

Roslin grumbles in defeat. Then she looks up at John and cocks her head to the side. “What did you call me?”

“What, ‘princess’? It’s a term for female royalty. A princess is the daughter of a king or queen, and becomes a queen herself if she takes the throne.” He deliberately does not mention ‘Star Wars’, at least not until he’s able to have her watch it.

“This is a human term?”

“Yup.”

Roslin seems confused. “I did not think humans had queens.”

“Ah, not quite like how Wraith mean it. A human queen is a ruler.”

“Does a Wraith queen not rule their hive?”

“Well, yeah, but… it’s different. Ask your dad to explain it, he’ll probably do a better job than I will.”

“Then why do you call me by this term, if human queens are so different than Wraith queens?”

“Ah…” John’s got to admit she’s got him a bit stumped there. “Well, it’s also sort of a term of endearment, I guess…”

Roslin’s grin creeps across her face. “John Sheppard, you _like_ me.” And her arms wrap around his ribs as she gazes up at him.

“Not like _that!”_ He quickly, but gently, unwinds her arms from his person. She looks crestfallen. “I do like you, but not… romantically or, or sexually…” He feels disturbed even saying the word in this context. “You’re just a kid! I’m an adult. We don’t do that.”

She tilts her head at him. “I did not mean it in that way, John Sheppard. You belong to my father, yes?”

John reddens. “I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that, but yeah, sure.”

“Though, if age is such a concern for humans, are you not closer in age to me than you are to my father?”

“Uh… That’s not really the point…” He’s not entirely sure how he feels about that.

“Regardless, I do not see the issue. I will not have my first mating cycle for another two years or so, thus the point is moot.”

“Nope.” John shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Nope, I absolutely do _not_ want to know about that!” John can’t for the life of him think how he stepped so badly into this conversation. Though it seems he’s to be saved from his continuing blunder by another Wraith.

“You! Human! How dare you raise your voice to the young Queen!”

Well, maybe ‘saved’ is not quite the correct term. Also, he hasn’t really raised his voice at all, so he suspects this Wraith is simply looking for any possible slight to be offended by.

“Hey, we’re just talking, nobody is disrespecting anybody else.” He raises his open hands in a placating gesture, but the Wraith at the side of the bay hisses in response, and Sheppard realizes maybe open hands aren’t the most peaceful things to display to a species whose main weapon is in their palm.

Two other Wraith stand a bit farther back, though they drift closer in the wake of their companion, and Sheppard realizes he has only his sidearm and the Ka-bar at his ankle to defend himself — not nearly enough to take out three Wraith in close-combat. He could call mentally for Todd, but that would require splitting his concentration, and the other Wraith are close enough that doing so would likely be disastrous. He tries a different tactic.

“Your Commander will be very angry if you hurt me,” he warns.

The first Wraith keeps advancing along the narrow walkway. “One human is no great loss,” he hisses. He’s close enough now that Sheppard catches sight of his facial tattoos: there are three dots forming a triangle beneath his right eye.

“Maybe, but I’m _his_ human,” Sheppard says, fully aware of the territorial tendencies Wraith possess.

Three-Dots pauses, and Roslin darts in front of Sheppard.

“You will cease this action immediately,” she says in an authoritative tone Sheppard’s never heard from anyone that young before. “John Sheppard is not to be harmed.”

Sheppard rests a hand on her shoulder, fully prepared to yank her behind him if need be, but the action has unforeseen consequences.

“You dare lay your filthy hands on our future Queen?” Three-Dots’ anger surges to the forefront, and he continues towards them.

Then, a new Wraith lands right in front of Roslin, and he must have leapt from behind her and John — John hadn’t detected him at all, and he twitches anxiously, unsheathing his knife and drawing his sidearm in one smooth motion. The new Wraith turns briefly to look at Roslin and Sheppard, but then faces off against Three-Dots.

John notices the new Wraith has a jagged slash diagonally across his entire face that at first seems like a scar, though this mark is actually a tattoo; their incredible healing makes scarring impossible for Wraith and John knows that for all his various past injuries, Todd wears no marks on his body that he did not seek to put there.

“I have been sent by the Commander to watch over those who are dear to him,” says the Wraith with the slash, and John is instantly thankful for Todd’s near-paranoia. “You will desist at once unless you wish to meet your end at the Commander’s hand.”

Three-Dots snarls and spits at Slash’s feet. “Of course a traitor like you would allow a human to lay hands on a queen. Was that how your previous queen met her end?”

“Traitor? What does he mean?” Sheppard whispers his question discreetly to Roslin.

“The line across his face,” Roslin whispers back. “It marks him as a traitor to his previous queen. Most would not allow such a one to serve aboard a hive, but I’m told my father has always had… _odd_ taste in allies.”

Sheppard grins. That sounds fairly accurately like Todd.

Slash simply bares his teeth at Three-Dots. “No, my former queen was ill-fit to lead a hive. She met her end at the hand of the Commander.”

Ah, so the Primary hadn’t been the only queen Todd’s killed, Sheppard muses. He wonders absently about Todd’s apparent irreverence for queens when the majority of Wraith society he’s seen seems to wholly revolve around them.

Glancing around, Sheppard realizes this confrontation is beginning to draw an audience, as Wraith seem to be creeping out of the woodwork to observe. He sees an assortment of bodies and silhouettes barely illuminated in the dim light at the edge of the bay cavern, the number of points of eye-shine in his periphery, ever increasing.

“ _What_ is going on here?” a new voice hisses imperiously, and Sheppard admits he is somewhat relieved to see Kenny appear at the end of the walkway this drama is unfolding upon. It’s not that John _trusts_ Kenny, _per se_ , but he does respect that _Todd_ seems to trust him, and right now that’s not a gift-horse he’s inclined to inspect too closely. Kenny approaches, his presence seeming to have a calming effect on the players involved, and there’s a distinct lack of speaking that leads John to believe the Wraith are all communicating telepathically.

“You lie!” Roslin suddenly interjects aloud. “John Sheppard is no threat to me! Only to your pride!”

“ _Enough_ ,” Kenny says sharply. “The Commander will want to resolve this himself. You will all come with me.” And he motions for John, Roslin, Slash, and Three-Dots to all follow him, as well as the two companions of Three-Dots, who had seemed near to joining in until Slash had arrived.

The group makes their way back to the throne room where Todd is still seated on the throne, though now he sits stiff-backed and rigid, his manner imperious where previously he had been relaxed. Kenny says something mentally to Todd, and moves to stand at the left of the throne.

Sheppard can’t help but be irritated at all the use of telepathic communication that he’s unable to participate in, or even interpret, especially when he suspects he’s about to be blindsided by false accusations. Though, at least he has Roslin as a witness and an ally, and she _is_ privy to the mental speech that John is biologically barred from. He notices Todd’s eyes flick briefly towards him, and then he feels a mental caress that he knows is meant to mollify his feelings of exclusion. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to keep from arching his head into that touch that is merely in his mind.

“You will each convey your remembrance of events to me, and we will see what has actually occurred,” Todd says, and Sheppard finds it more than a bit of a turn-on to see him actively in the role of imposing hive-commander, perched haughtily on the throne, looking more regal than any monarch Sheppard’s ever met. He suddenly wants everyone else to leave so he can go sit in Todd’s lap.

Looking down the line, Sheppard watches as each of the Wraith in turn sway slightly towards Todd, their eyelids fluttering, and he wonders how voluntary this process is — whether they each submit willingly to Todd’s perusal of their recollection of events, or whether Todd has to coax, or even pry their memories from their minds. It doesn’t _seem_ forceful, though it does seem Todd holds them each in thrall momentarily. Roslin is the only one who has an air of petulance about her as she conveys her remembrance of events, eyelids fluttering briefly, and John supposes she’s likely immune from the thrall of all but another queen.

Finally, Todd’s eyes land on John again, and he feels the gentle coaxing of Todd’s mind against his own, and he happily offers up his own memory for Todd’s benefit. When it’s over, he rocks back onto his heels, noticing the other Wraith are all staring, save for Roslin. Three-Dots and one of his companions wear expressions of disgust, and John realizes that Todd’s ability to connect with him is indicative of the more intimate connection he’s allowed Todd to forge within his mind. He resolves to ignore them.

“I see,” Todd rasps forebodingly, once he’s obtained everyone’s accounts. His gaze swivels to Three-Dots. “You were made aware of my ambitions when you first joined this Hive, were you not?”

“I was, Commander,” he says, grudgingly, “though apparently I was not previously aware of your _predilections_.”

At that, Kenny makes an aggressive move towards the insolent Wraith, but Todd halts him with a raised hand.

Todd grins cruelly, showing teeth. “Ah. And is it specifically my intent to ally with the humans or my inclination to lie with one that displeases you? If it is the former, you may take your leave of us once we reach Malus, and never trouble us again. Though if it is the latter, you are certainly free to issue a challenge at your own discretion.”

John can tell from Todd’s expression that he’s hoping this Wraith will challenge him. His pupils are contracted to faint slits and his sensory pits are flared wide. Apparently such an insult has him spoiling for a fight.

Three-Dots snarls angrily at the position Todd’s forced him into, but evidently Todd knows this Wraith well enough to recognize what will provoke him because it doesn’t take him long at all to respond, “I demand a challenge!” He draws a gently curved blade from the sheath at his side and stands with it at the ready. John supposes it’s about the length of a short-sword, or just a tad longer.

Todd’s grin widens, and he rises gracefully from the throne, stepping down to meet his challenger on equal footing. Kenny partway unsheathes the weapon at his hip, offering it to Todd, but Todd declines with a shake of his head. “Sheppard,” he says, and motions towards the Ka-bar John still holds in reserve. John tosses the knife to Todd, impressed at how deftly he snatches it from the air, though worried that Todd’s put himself at such a disadvantage by opting for a smaller weapon.

Todd allows his challenger to make the first move, which he does, slashing recklessly with his blade as he charges towards Todd. Todd dodges it easily. Three-Dots swings again, and this time Todd ducks under the blow, darting quickly forwards into the other Wraith’s space, thrusting the knife into his throat and severing his spine. The body drops to the floor and Todd bends to wipe the blood clean of the blade on the sleeve of his challenger’s coat.

Then he rises and turns to Three-Dots’ companions. “Do you share this one’s opinion?”

“No, Commander,” they each hurry to respond.

“Good. As you were.” And the two Wraith scurry from the room.

Todd then turns to regard Slash. The Wraith with the traitorous marking is shorter than Todd, though still taller than Sheppard, and he sports dreadlocks to just past his shoulders. Instead of the usual black leather coat, Slash wears close-fitting reinforced leather armour similar to that of a Wraith who once infiltrated Atlantis prior to laying siege to the city, and who’d nearly killed John. The irony that this Wraith who had actively been protecting John looks so similar, does not go unnoticed.

“You have my utmost thanks, friend,” Todd says to Slash. “I owe you a debt. If there is something you desire that I am able to grant, you need only ask.”

Slash tilts his head and seems to consider. “I would like to see Atlantis, when we arrive, if you would allow me to accompany you.”

Todd grins. “I would welcome your company, though the one whose permission you require is actually Colonel Sheppard.”

“Oh, I think I can arrange that,” John says when Slash looks at him. He grins.

“I would very much appreciate it, Colonel,” says Slash. He and Todd bend to touch their foreheads together, and John wonders whether that gesture is actually Athosian in origin, as he’d learned it, or rather if the Athosians may have appropriated it at some point in their history from the Wraith.

Then Slash and Kenny leave, and Roslin levels a sly look at her father. “May I accompany the Sub-Commander to the bridge?”

“Of course,” Todd says, and then he and John are alone again.

“Does she have a bit of a crush on Kenny, or something?” John asks.

Todd looks as if he hasn’t considered this before. “I suppose it is possible.” He sighs, and moves to encircle John within his arms, drawing him close.

“Todd.”

“Mm?”

“I’m not making out with you while there’s a corpse in the room.”

Todd chuckles. “The drones will attend to it,” he says, unconcerned.

“Speaking of which, was there some sort of subtext there that I was missing?” He motions between Todd and the now-deceased Wraith.

“Ah. Yes, we had been intimate on a few occasions.” The offhanded manner in which Todd mentions this implies, Sheppard hopes, that this was a fairly casual thing.

“You and _him?”_ John makes a face. He can’t imagine what Todd might have seen in this guy.

Todd shakes his head in exasperation. “He was brash, and a bit of an idiot, but I did enjoy his defiance. I think that bit of him reminded me a little of you, truth be told.”

Sheppard scoffs. “I don’t know whether I should feel flattered or insulted,” he grumbles.

“Oh, I much prefer ‘flattered’,” Todd says, retrieving his data pad and drawing Sheppard to him again as they make to return to Todd’s quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Todd's use of _"meomnia"_ is a Wraith term of endearment meaning "my all-of-me" and is typically used by fathers for their daughter queens, as it expresses the fact that genetically, queens possess 100% of their father's DNA plus 50% of their mother's.
> 
> Extra points for anyone who can figure out where John gets Roslin's name from. ;)


	13. Scent and a Sound, I’m Lost and I’m Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets more than an eyeful of his first Wraith worshipper colony on Malus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I've written thus far. Blame Todd and bagheerita. He's got a competitive streak a mile wide, and she started asking questions that flicked my world-building switch like woah. Anyways, please enjoy!
> 
> Thanks as always to bagheerita for being the most effective and helpful of betas!

It takes an additional two days to reach Malus, during which John splits his time between further exploring the ship with Roslin, learning as much written Wraith as will stick in his brain, and teaching Todd and Roslin a variety of card games. In the off-hours when Todd isn’t preoccupied with the function of the Hive, he and John continue to indulge in their desire for one another, and Sheppard doesn’t think he’s ever been as sexually satisfied at any point in his life as he is now. Apparently there are indeed tangible benefits to having a lover with literally millennia of experience.

They take a transport shuttle down to the planet: John, Todd, Roslin, six other Wraith and eight drones aboard the craft. John recognizes Slash, and the Wraith with the wing-like marking below his eye who’d donated his belt to stem Sheppard’s bleeding the last time he was aboard this ship. Todd informs him that this is the Master at Arms.

John rises from his seat between Roslin and Todd, approaching the Wraith with the winged marking. “I wanted to thank you,” John says to the Master at Arms, who turns to regard him with surprise. “You helped save my life.”

The officer grins and dips his head in a courtly gesture. “Think nothing of it, John Sheppard. You are our Commander’s consort, and thus of our Hive now.” He tilts his head and his next words are soft, like he’s imparting a secret. “Though even before I realized this, I could see you were dear to him.” He grins. “We protect our own. Besides, such things are easily replaced.” He motions to the new belt that now adorns his coat.

“I’m glad,” Sheppard says, genuinely touched at being named as _Hive_ , though he makes a note to ask said Commander more about the significance of being a commander’s consort, and then he returns to his seat next to Todd. He notices Slash sidle over to the Master at Arms, the two of them very comfortably in each others’ space, clearly speaking telepathically with each other, occasionally glancing back at Sheppard.

After a few minutes, Slash approaches him, grinning, amusement in his eyes. “The Master at Arms would like me to inform you that you may address him as ‘Talon.’ And I would be happy to be known as ‘Slash,’ as the Commander claims you have described me thus far.”

“He has, has he?” John throws Todd a dirty look, but Todd simply grins and says nothing. “Well, thank you for letting me know.” Vaguely, he wonders if he will be responsible, either directly or indirectly, for the naming of Todd’s entire Hive.

“So what are you most looking forward to?” Sheppard asks Roslin, on his other side. “What kind of fruit,” he clarifies when she furrows her brow in confusion.

“You mean other than igrats?” Her smile is infectious. “The salphins have always been among my favourites,” she says. “They are about this big,” she makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger, “and they have a small pit in the middle, but they are so sweet once you peel them.”

“I always liked the dunberries best,” Slash interrupts with a toothy grin.

“You probably just liked the colour they turned your fingers — Iratus blue,” says Talon, wryly. “The anwarri were the ones I liked best.”

And then all the Wraith in the transport ship are murmuring and discussing their favourite childhood fruits and other foods, and John is suddenly struck by how this could actually _work,_ if Keller is able to truly figure out how to enable Wraith to live off of food rather than human life force. Sights like this could be an everyday occurrence instead of something most humans would never chance to witness.

Sheppard smiles to himself and leans into Todd’s side as he just watches all the Wraith around him behaving like ordinary people rather than the man-eating monsters Pegasus humans know them as. He thinks it might do them good to see humans in a similar light rather than running and screaming and begging as prey.

He feels Todd’s mind press against his own and allows Todd in to peruse his thoughts. Todd grins and slips an arm around John’s waist, and holds him tight until they reach the planet’s surface.

* * *

There are a collection of worshippers that are waiting to greet them when their party all exit the transport ship. They’re all dressed in white and John notices they’re some of the cleanest and most beautiful Pegasus natives he’s ever seen collected together. He supposes the Wraith would rather surround themselves with beautiful servants than not, and he knows he’s a pretty decent-looking guy himself, but even he feels a bit gritty next to the worshippers’ willowy, elfin likenesses. The group of twenty or so humans are mostly young women, though some men are present too, and they all carry platters of various fruits and sweet treats that they offer their Wraith visitors. At the head of them is an incredibly attractive blonde man who looks a little younger than John, and who bows graciously before Todd.

“Commander, we welcome you and your Hive to the colony of Malus. I am Hemit. Please let us know how we may be of service.” John doesn’t like the way this guy is looking up through his eyelashes at Todd, like he’s flirting shamelessly, displaying himself as sensuously as possible. Hemit’s head is tilted back, his chest thrust forward, and John realizes almost all of the worshippers’ clothing features plunging necklines that display the midline of their chests. Sheppard is used to that style of dress on Earth women, though he has to admit, if he weren’t so aware of the reason behind it, he might find it easy to appreciate the style on the men as well. He notes that some of them have feeding scars that they seem especially proud of.

John positions himself at Todd’s side, snaking his arm around Todd’s middle and resting his hand on a leather-clad hip. Todd curls an arm around his shoulders in response. Hemit suddenly looks quite disappointed, and more than a little envious of John, but his eyes flit quickly and eagerly over the rest of Todd’s Wraith.

“Thank you,” Todd says. “My Master at Arms has the list of supplies I require, to be delivered by the day’s end, if that is not too much for you to manage.”

“Of course, my lord. It shall be done. Please be welcome to sample the various harvests of our orchards.” The way he says the word ‘harvests’ implies that he means more than just the plant life they cultivate, and Sheppard shivers. He’s heard Wraith use the term ‘harvest’ before in reference to human culling and he hopes Hemit’s word choice here is purely coincidental. Hemit bows again, and Todd nods, bringing John along as he sweeps past Hemit and through the rest of the throng of worshippers.

“I see I’m not the only one with a possessive streak,” Todd notes with a grin as they head down a dirt path that leads into a sort of village.

“He was looking at you like a piece of meat,” Sheppard says distastefully.

“Mm, hence why worshippers have never held any appeal for me, among other reasons.”

“I suppose the bowing and scraping must get old pretty quickly.”

“Indeed.” Then Todd elaborates. “Status is important to both Wraith and worshippers, and being the consort of a commander is about as high-status a position as it is possible for a worshipper to achieve. Did you not notice how jealous Hemit was to see you with me?”

“Oh, I noticed,” John grumbles. “What exactly is a commander’s consort anyway? I mean, I get the obvious connotation, but Talon said that’s what I was, and the way he said it made me think he was implying — actually, I’m not exactly sure what he was implying…”

Todd sighs. “To be a commander’s consort can mean a variety of things,” he begins. “Traditionally, a commander might take a human worshipper as his consort to provide release at times when he is overcome by the queen’s pheromones.”

Sheppard makes a face. “Like a sex slave? Wouldn’t the commander and the queen just…” He makes a crude hand gesture.

“You are assuming queens are usually receptive to such attentions. They are not. Not always.” He shakes his head. “And, though that sort of commander-consort relationship is almost always driven by the commander, I’m not sure ‘slave’ is quite accurate. Did Hemit seem at all unwilling to you?”

“So the consort can say ‘no’ whenever they want?”

“Hm. Fair point,” Todd says grimly.

“There’s no room for negotiation in a queen-commander relationship?”

Todd laughs bitterly. “The purpose of male Wraith is to serve their queen and, occasionally, to breed new queens.” He sounds like he’s quoting from something, rather than conveying his own thoughts. “The relationship between a queen and her commander is not usually a partnership.” Something in his voice turns wistful, and John has a sneaking suspicion that perhaps Todd _did_ have a more partnered relationship with at least one of his past queens. He hopes it was Roslin’s mother.

“Lovely,” John says dryly in commiseration. “Well, I’m pretty sure _that_ sort of consort wasn’t what Talon was referring to…”

“Ah. No.” Todd seems happy to resume the original thread of their discussion. “That is not how I see you either,” he agrees, and John smiles. He hadn’t thought as much. “Between two Wraith, a commander may take a consort as an informal or temporary lover, who may or may not serve some of the same functions as a human worshipper would.”

“So, essentially fuck-buddies.”

Todd arches a brow ridge at Sheppard’s terminology.

“‘Fuck-buddies’ are what we call it when two people hook up regularly for sex, without the expectation of any sort of romantic attachment or relationship between them.”

“Ah. Yes, I suppose that would be accurate. Though, a commander may also take a Wraith as his consort with whom he does have a more intimate emotional connection, or even one with whom he is bonded. The implication in such an arrangement is that said consort would also be welcome in the queen’s chamber, which is significant given that mating rights to a queen are often highly prized and jealously guarded. Not a thing to be so willingly shared with another, assuming the queen in question is amenable.”

“So, is that was Talon meant?” John asks, a bit tentatively. “That you like me enough to share a queen with me?” Not that John would ever be remotely interested in such a thing — queens still creep him out big time — but he can at least try to appreciate the significance queens represent in Wraith society.

Todd looks over at Sheppard, his gaze positively _hungry._ “Sheppard, I do not currently know of any _queen_ I like well enough to share _you_ with, when I would much rather keep you all to myself.” Todd’s arm tightens around John’s shoulders, and clawed fingers dip beneath the neck of his shirt to rest against the smoothness of the feeding scar.

Sheppard’s fingers clutch more tightly at Todd’s hip in response, though he doesn’t have long to ruminate on the sweetness of Todd’s words because they quickly reach the village and John has a hard time deciding where to focus his attention first. His initial impression is of a vast marketplace where all the available wares are assorted fruits and foods, and the various aromas assaulting his senses are making his mouth water. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now, and his stomach growls fiercely.

Humans and Wraith intermingle freely, though the people staffing each stall are almost exclusively humans, and there doesn’t seem to be any currency or barter system as far as John can tell. Probably the most bizarre sight are the gaggles of young Wraith that flit by in small groups, each tended to by a plainly-attired female, the humans happy to supply them with their favourite foodstuffs.

“Each nest is tended to by a keeper,” Todd explains. “A hive may have multiple females, though only the dominant one is the queen, and only the queen is capable of reproducing. Exposure to the queen’s pheromones suppresses the reproductive systems of the other females, who are usually relegated to the role of keeper, tending to the offspring of the queen.”

“Huh. So how does this place work anyhow? Is it a barter system? What exactly do the worshippers get out of running a fruit salad buffet?”

“There is no bartering or use of currency here. Malus is considered neutral territory and can be visited by any Hive. There is no Stargate, but we bring supplies to the colony when we can, and provide drones for labour. We also provide the Gift of Life to those that need it, in exchange for a handful of years plus the cost of the healing.”

John considers that, and though his first thought is that this sounds a bit like some sort of Faustian bargain, upon further consideration it’s probably not a terrible deal given that modern human medicine can’t hold a candle to Wraith healing.

“Malus also acts as a sort of creche for young Wraithlings,” Todd says, as a group of said Wraithlings run past, laughing. They look somewhere between eight to ten years old, going by human growth rates. “There is no need to expose young ones to the dangers inherent aboard a hive ship, and there is plenty of food for them here until they feel the first burning in their palms.”

“You have Roslin aboard your ship,” John points out.

“There are… political reasons I keep her with me, which I would prefer not to discuss out in the open where we may be overheard,” Todd says, suddenly watchful of the passers-by around them, and John is instantly curious. He makes a note to get the whole story from Todd once they’re back aboard the ship.

“Commander! Commander!” a voice calls, and Todd turns to one of the stalls where an older woman, perhaps in her sixties, is waving him down from behind a display of fruit with a brown, thorny exterior. John hasn’t seen an abundance of older humans around, though this woman is still gorgeous — she reminds him of an aging movie star — and Todd unwinds his arm from Sheppard in order to draw closer. “Do you not recognize me?” she asks, and suddenly Todd grins, cupping her cheek in his off hand.

“Galeet?” he asks, and the woman nods, grinning. “You have changed since I last saw you,” he marvels.

“You _haven’t,”_ she laughs, and Todd chuckles despite himself. “It is good to see that you are well, my lord. Would your companion perhaps like to try the zibeth?” She motions to the strange fruit at her stall.

Todd makes a long-suffering sound, tilting his head and flashing his teeth briefly. He looks questioningly at John, who glances from Todd to Galeet and back.

“I dunno, would I?” John suspects there’s an inside joke here that he’s missing.

“You may, if you like. She knows I hate the smell, however.”

“Many Wraith do,” Galeet explains wryly to John, “though they are prized by humans on many worlds.”

“Sure, why not?” John figures he might as well be adventurous, and he’s at least curious as to what aroma might be useful to ward off Wraith.

Galeet selects a zibeth and slices it open using something vaguely reminiscent of a machete, and Todd instantly turns away, pressing a hand over his nose. The inside of the fruit is a pale yellow with a texture like stringy custard and Galeet passes John a spoon with which to scoop the flesh from the thorny rind. He doesn’t find the smell appetizing either, but he takes a tentative bite and the flavour is an entirely unexpected combination of sweet and slightly savoury at the same time, with an aftertaste somewhat suggestive of roasted or caramelized garlic.

“That’s… actually really good,” he says after confirming with a second taste. Galeet looks immensely pleased, and John happily finishes the section of fruit she’s exposed, though he declines her offer for more on account of Todd looking like he’s about to be sick. “Thanks, but I won’t force him to endure any more than he has already,” John tells her, smiling conspiratorially. She laughs.

“You take good care of him, young man,” she says, the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes crinkling fondly.

“I will.” And John links his arm with Todd’s, leading him away from the stall, though it’s several moments before Todd does anything more than breathe fresh air. “It really wasn’t _that_ bad,” Sheppard chides.

“Ugh, you humans are entirely scent-blind,” Todd laments. He presses his face into Sheppard’s hair, determined to replace the foul smell in his nasal passages with one he enjoys. “Just don’t expect me to kiss you until you taste of something else.”

“Fine, you can choose the next thing I try,” John chuckles. “She seemed to recognize you fairly well for someone who hates the smell of her fruit. How did you two meet?”

“There was an accident when she was very young — maybe six or seven. She had been playing with an older sibling and some other children when she fell and hit her head on a rock. Her mother came running to me, begging me to save her girl, and she agreed to feed me in exchange, so I did. She would have perished had I not given her the Gift.”

“And she remembers you from that far back?”

“I have visited here a few times since then, though her injury was… perhaps nearly a century ago.” He shrugs.

John halts in his tracks, forcing Todd to do the same. He gapes wordlessly up at the Wraith. Galeet had seemed to be in her sixties, _maybe_ seventy at most. No way did she look even close to ninety. “You’ve given me the Gift twice now, does that… Will I age more slowly because of it?”

“I do not know,” Todd admits. “It is quite possible.” He tilts his head in consideration. “Would that be such a hardship?”

John shakes his head slowly. “No… I — I don’t know. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

Todd wraps an arm around him again and they continue walking. “You do not need to think on it right now.”

“I guess not.”

“Come, try the salphins instead, they are better,” and Todd steers him over to another stall where there are numerous pinkish-skinned fruits about the size of a ping-pong ball. Todd shows him how to crack and peel away the leathery skin with the edge of a nail and then to eat the pale jelly-like inner fruit around the small pit.

“Mmm, these are good too. Really refreshing.” They have a sweet, floral taste to them, though the texture reminds John a bit of grapes. He can see why these are a favourite of Roslin’s.

And speak of the devil…

“John Sheppard! John Sheppard!” Roslin comes running through the village, throwing her arms around John’s middle. Slash and Talon trail close behind her, and John supposes Todd must have tasked the two of them with her safety on this particular outing.

“You know,” he says, “you can just call me ‘John,’ or I guess ‘Sheppard,’ if you want. Humans don’t often use each other’s full names unless the situation formally calls for it.” He drapes an arm around her and figures if she’s in the mood to be this physically affectionate, he can at least be the one person in Todd’s Hive who isn’t strictly barred from touching her.

“John, then,” she amends. “Come climb the malus trees with me!”

“Ooohh, tree-climbing, eh? Sounds like fun to me.” He grins at her and is fully prepared to let her drag him off in whatever direction she wants. He’s not had much physical exertion over the last few days other than meandering around the ship or on his back in Todd’s bed, and he’d welcome a change of pace. Todd hangs onto his shoulders a moment before Roslin can haul him away though.

Todd frowns and tilts his head in consideration. When he speaks, it’s softly so that only John hears him. “Something is bothering you. What is it?”

John shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” But then he realizes Todd’s curiosity won’t just let it go. “Ask me later,” he says, and then Todd releases his hold so that Roslin sweeps John away from the village and down a small hill towards a field that looks eerily similar to many of the orchards John had picked apples at each autumn as a boy.

“No way!” he exclaims as he reaches up to grab one of the red fruits. He twists it off and rubs it against his pant leg before eagerly taking a bite. It’s very clearly a McIntosh apple.

“Are they not good?” Roslin asks with a grin. “They are called malus, and the planet is named for them.

“They’re _apples!”_ John laughs. He can’t believe the Wraith have named an entire planet for the apple trees that grow here.

“You have these on your world?”

“We have _hundreds_ of varieties of apples. They’re probably one of the most ubiquitous foods where I grew up.” He finishes the apple, tosses the core to the ground, and then hoists himself up into the branches of the tree via a gnarled foothold in the trunk. “We used to do this every year when I was a kid.” He climbs as high as he can, given the thickness of the branches that will support his weight, and snags the biggest apple he can reach, then lies down along the branch as he munches. “You gonna stay down there all day?” he shouts to Roslin in between bites.

She grins, leaping up into the tree, and Sheppard thinks it’s horribly unfair how agile Wraith are in the trees compared to humans whose fairly recent evolutionary ancestors were tree-dwellers. He’s maybe not yet ready to accept that Wraith will almost always outclass humans when it comes to feats of physical prowess, and he’s somewhat comforted by the fact that Roslin does not yet possess Todd’s seemingly effortless grace. Though, as he watches her weave her way through the branches to join him some twenty-something feet above the ground, he suspects it’s only a matter of time.

“Catch!” he says, and tosses an apple at her. She catches it easily and grins as she bites into it. He notices she takes smaller bites than he does, and seems to swallow them whole rather than chewing. John thinks back to the bite mark Todd had left in his skin prior to healing him — he doesn’t remember there being any variation in the punctures left by Todd’s teeth, and he suspects Wraith don’t possess molars. Though Todd _had_ chewed the igrat a bit, hadn’t he? Of course, an igrat is much softer than the crunchiness of an apple, so perhaps it’s easier to chew without teeth specifically adapted to do so… He makes a note to investigate this further the next time he kisses Todd.

On the ground, Todd, Slash, and Talon have caught up with them, the latter two settling beside each other against the trunk of a neighbouring tree, while Todd stands a little farther off, staring into the dense forest that borders the far side of the orchard from the worshipper village. Sheppard catches a brief bit of amusement and anticipation from Todd’s mind, and he wonders what the Wraith is thinking.

There’s a hard impact to his shoulder, suddenly, and John realizes Roslin’s thrown an apple at him. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, eh princess?” He grins and plucks an apple to lob back at her, but she leans to the side, dodging it. And then they’re pelting each other with apples, and John swings down from his branch to evade Roslin’s munitions, but she’s quick to follow, and he’s got to duck behind the main trunk to avoid taking an apple to his cheek.

“Get back here, John!” she squeals in delight at gaining the upper hand.

John catches the next apple and returns fire. “Nope! I don’t think so!” He climbs lower and finally leaps to the ground, tumbling into a roll and ending up prone on his back as Roslin stands over him, her arm cocked with an apple ready in her hand.

“Surrender!”

John throws up his hands. “Mercy! Mercy!” he laughs. “I surrender.”

Roslin grins happily and lowers her arm, bringing the apple to her mouth instead and taking a bite. “I have bested you, human!” she says dramatically. “You must now join my Hive as one of my worshippers!”

“Of course, your worshipfulness,” John says, playing along, and Roslin laughs, scampering off to climb the next tree in the row.

Sheppard catches sight of Todd, then, and the Commander’s expression is positively predatory. John can see his slippery mind at work, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he approaches John and bends to grasp his arm, hoisting him effortlessly up.

“John Sheppard and I will be indisposed for much of the rest of the day,” Todd says to the other Wraith, though his focus remains entirely on Sheppard.

“Yes, Commander,” Talon replies.

* * *

Todd’s hand is on the small of Sheppard’s back, and he eagerly guides his consort from the orchard towards the tree line of the forest. Sheppard goes willingly, though his expression is calculating, his eyes darting back and forth to examine their surroundings, just as he examines Todd’s face for potential clues.

“Okay, I know that look,” says John. “What’s going on? I know you’re planning something.”

Todd grins. “I suddenly find myself possessed of the urge to go hunting,” he says lightly. They break the tree line and pass into the cooler shade of the forest, Todd’s eyes adjusting instantly to the lack of bright sunlight.

“Hunting? Really? What kind of game would be worth the trouble if you can’t even gain anything — oh. _Oh.”_ And Sheppard seems at last to have caught on. He stills, and Todd can detect the faint aroma of apprehension on him. It’s not quite the full-blown metallic tang of _fear,_ but the flavour is still sharp. There is arousal too on Sheppard’s scent, though it takes a moment longer for Todd’s olfactory system to pick up the sweet muskiness of it. He noses into the short hair at Sheppard’s nape where his scent is potent and breathes in the deliciousness of him.

“Exactly how good is your sense of smell, anyways?” John asks, turning to face Todd.

“Quite.” He grins, showing teeth.

“Hm. You gonna give me a head start?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be very sporting of me otherwise. Say… ten minutes?” Sheppard nods, and Todd closes the space between them, cupping John’s neck and kissing him deeply. When they part, Sheppard’s hands are flat along Todd’s chest, and the Wraith imparts one last bit of incentive, lowering his voice to the gravelly rasp he knows John enjoys. “The longer you evade me, the more time I will have to contemplate what to do with you when I catch you.”

Sheppard licks his lips and his pupils grow large. “Ah. Right.”

“Sheppard. _Run!”_ And he does, grinning as he takes off into the forest, and Todd turns away so as not to watch where he goes.

* * *

Todd is pleasantly surprised that it takes him longer to catch up with Sheppard than he’d anticipated. Evidently he’s learned a thing or two from the Satedan, because Todd is forced to backtrack along John’s trail a handful of times where he’d cleverly laid a false path. There is a shallow stream running through the woods where the trail goes cold, Sheppard obviously using the running water to mask his scent. Todd grins. He crosses to the other side and doesn’t further detect John’s aroma, determining that he must have walked for some time through the water either up or downstream. He thinks he might detect just the faintest whiff of his lover from upstream, which would be the smart way to go anyhow, and so he follows the water upstream until Sheppard’s scent takes him out to a field of nearly chest-high grasses.

Out from the cover of the forest, the breeze disrupts the direction of Sheppard’s scent, but Todd spies him hiding stealthily in the grass, only faintly detectable because his body heat stands out amongst the grasses to Todd’s sensory pits. He guards his expression, pretending he hasn’t spotted Sheppard, meandering out into the field past where Sheppard is hidden, circling back to approach from behind, and then Todd _pounces,_ grabbing hold of John, and rolling with him to the ground. He is greeted by an explosion of laughter that he suspects is largely due to adrenaline.

“Oh, shit, this is crazy. If I start having a Pavlovian response every time I’m chased by Wraith when my team is off-world, it’s gonna be entirely your fault.” Sheppard laughs as Todd pins him to the ground.

“Pavlovian?” Todd asks, the word unfamiliar to him, though he’s understandably more interested in sliding his hands beneath Sheppard’s shirt, exposing swaths of warm flesh for him to nip at.

“Pavlov was a psychologist who studied operant conditioning,” Sheppard replies, breath hitching when Todd’s claws slide up his ribs, gathering his shirt up under his armpits.

“Aaahhh, yes, that could be somewhat… problematic for you,” Todd laughs. He has previously discovered he can make Sheppard hiss and gasp by stimulating the man’s nipples, and he bends his head to mouth at one of the spots, allowing his teeth to scrape gently over delicate skin.

Sheppard’s body jerks violently in response. “Oh, _fuck,_ ” he exclaims, and his fingers clench in Todd’s hair.

“Of course,” Todd says, moving to mirror the process on Sheppard’s other side, “that would be predicated on the frequency with which such stimuli are repeated.” He tongues the other nipple and Sheppard’s limbs tighten instantly around him, clinging like a limpet.

“ _Motherfucker!_ ”

Todd is supremely pleased by this reflex, though he is suddenly blessed with a wicked idea and he slithers back up Sheppard’s body in order to share it. “We could conduct our own experiment,” he rasps.

Sheppard considers him warily. “Yeah?”

“We could investigate exactly how many times I must chase you down, in order to produce this response.”

“Oh god, you’re _horrible_.” But despite his protest, Sheppard’s pupils grow large.

Suddenly, there’s something else Todd is compelled to investigate. He unwinds Sheppard’s arms from his person, and slowly slides his hands up until he has both of the man’s wrists in his grasp, held firmly to the ground.

Sheppard licks his lips.

“You enjoy this,” Todd realizes, grinning deviously. “Being held down, helpless to escape me.”

Sheppard’s eyes widen and Todd suspects he is only just now realizing this thing about himself. “Oh, _shit_.” He touches Sheppard’s mind and feels just how _badly_ he wants this.

Todd snorts in amusement. “Sheppard, you are delightful.” And suddenly, Todd can’t get enough of him. He releases Sheppard’s wrists in favour of divesting him of his shirt and jacket, and then Sheppard is reaching to unbuckle his belt and shimmy out of his pants, kicking his boots off at the same time.

Todd similarly shucks his own clothing, tossing his dark coat aside. He rejoins Sheppard in the privacy of the tall grass, and John stills for a moment beneath him.

“We don’t need to worry about any wildlife sneaking up on us, do we?” John glances around speculatively. “No predators that’ll try to maul us?”

“Sheppard, the only predator you need worry yourself about has already found you.” And Todd darts forward to clasp his teeth roughly around Sheppard’s clavicle.

“Ha — ah!” The startled noise Sheppard makes is half laughter, half moan, as Todd worries the base of his throat with his rough tongue. “Funny,” he gasps.

And then Sheppard’s voice takes on a false affectation, sounding higher in pitch than is usual. “Oh, no, please don’t eat me, mister big, scary Wraith! I’ll do whatever you want, I promise!”

Todd rears back, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“No? Not doing it for you either, huh?” Sheppard says wryly in his usual tone.

“Do you think I have some sort of fetish? That I would lie with any human I came across?”

“What, like a food fetish?” Sheppard laughs. “I sincerely hope not.” He winds his legs around Todd’s hips, drawing the Wraith back down against him. “I might get jealous.”

Todd grins. “Trust me, Sheppard, you are the singular peculiarity I desire in my life, and I have no plans to replace you with any other.”

“Good,” Sheppard responds, and Todd sees that there’s a possessive spark in his eyes. “You’re the only peculiarity I want in my life too.”

He kisses Sheppard’s mouth, slipping his tongue into the heat of him, tasting that uniquely human flavour, and Todd feels the tightening of the two small tendons deep in his throat that will signify the initiation of his purr, once he has air to draw through his system again.

Sheppard moans, running his tongue carefully against Todd’s teeth, biting benignly at his lower lip, and sure enough, when they break apart, Todd sucks in air and is purring.

“God, I _love_ that,” Sheppard says, pressing his cheek to Todd’s throat.

Todd chuckles warmly. “I am glad, as it is not something I can control.”

Sheppard grins and sinks his warm hands into Todd’s hair, his fingers pressing and scratching against the base of Todd’s skull, and Todd can’t help but let his eyes slide shut as his purr deepens. Clearly his lover enjoys exploiting this reflex, pulling Todd more closely against him, and Todd feels Sheppard harden fully against his hip.

“Perhaps you’re the one with the fetish,” Todd suggests, grinning.

Sheppard laughs. “Well, I never tried to fuck the family cat, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Todd’s purr transitions into laughter then as well, Sheppard having described the Earth creature to him once before when the subject of purring came up.

Eventually, Sheppard’s hands slide down out of Todd’s hair, and along his back. Todd’s elytra twitch as Sheppard’s fingers stroke along their grooved surface, and his breath hitches when they inevitably slide underneath, pressing at his sweet spot. The pleasure is like a current to his groin and he can’t help but roll his hips against Sheppard as his cock hardens.

“There you are,” Sheppard murmurs, and he uses his feet against Todd’s hips to try to maneuver Todd’s cock lower against his entrance.

“Do you not have your oil?” Todd asks.

“It’s in my jacket pocket, but I kinda wanted to see if we even really need it.” Sheppard isn’t quite blushing, but Todd’s sensory pits can still detect the vasodilation in the surface layers of his skin.

“Ah.” He grins, baring teeth, pressing gently with the fingers that bear his dulled claws as he applies his precome to Sheppard’s entrance. He feels Sheppard relax his body, Todd’s fingers sinking carefully inside him.

“Come on, Todd, I’m not going to break.”

“Patience,” Todd hisses. “I want you at least a few times before we return to the ship.”

“Oh god. A _few_ times? Do Wraith even _have_ a refractory period?”

“Of course we do, Sheppard, don’t be obtuse.”

“I’m not being obt—ahh! _There, right there!”_

And Todd finally gets Sheppard to shut up when he locates his prostate. Or, at least to stop _talking_ , though he still makes noise, and Todd does very much enjoy hearing his sounds of pleasure. Sheppard’s eyes are half-lidded and he’s panting for breath, fingertips stroking along Todd’s neck and jaw as Todd plays with him, pressing rhythmically into the nerve cluster.

“Okay, _okay,”_ he moans. “Want you in me already.” He tries to curl a leg around Todd again.

“No, like this,” Todd says, and he coaxes Sheppard to turn over and rise up on his hands and knees. “This way will be more enjoyable for you.”

“If you say so. Though it’s not like I’ve had any complaints so far.”

Todd presses himself along Sheppard’s back, nuzzling into his hair. He supports himself with his left hand against the ground so he’s not leaning all his weight on Sheppard, and wraps his right arm around the warm body beneath him. He’s forced to angle his longer legs slightly, in order to bring his hips in line with Sheppard’s, and then he’s pushing himself slowly inside.

Todd bends his mind to Sheppard’s and fixes all his senses upon him in order to be sure he is the cause of pleasure rather than pain. John makes a supremely satisfied sound as Todd sinks entirely inside him, the ridges all along the underside of his cock sliding against Sheppard’s prostate as he does so, and Sheppard’s body seems to almost vibrate in response.

“Oh, _shit,_ you weren’t kidding, were you?” Sheppard asks rhetorically, his voice breathy and shaking. “I don’t think I’m going to last long like this.”

Todd noses behind his ear, nibbling lightly. “Perhaps not the _first_ time…”

“Oh, _fuck._ ”

“Precisely.” Todd draws himself partway out of Sheppard, grinning when his lover jerks and gasps as Todd’s cock drags against his nerves, and then again as he thrusts back in. He establishes a moderate but consistent rhythm — just slow enough as to keep Sheppard on the precipice of orgasm without allowing him to succumb to it — and it’s not long before John is a desperate, shivering wreck.

“Todd, oh shit, _Todd! Fuck, fuck, fuuhnnhh… unh, unh, unhhh…”_

In John’s mind, Todd lies above him in John’s quarters, the fingers of his hands interlaced with Sheppard’s on either side of the bed as he kisses John breathless, perhaps determined to drink the life from Sheppard’s body via his mouth instead of his hand. Though the maw in his palm mouths simultaneously at Sheppard’s skin.

Neither of them specifically needs to breathe in the mind-space, but the mind is often ruled by bodily reflexes and Sheppard eventually wrenches his lips from Todd’s, gasping for air. Todd continues kissing and biting his way down John’s neck and chest, sucking eagerly at the brownish nub of a nipple. Sheppard shrieks, arching up from the bed at the stimulation, and his physical body mirrors the motion, pressing his ass up into Todd’s hips.

“Shit! Todd, Todd, _Todd!”_

And Sheppard comes with a wail, cock spurting untouched over the ground, as he sinks down onto his forearms, no longer able to hold himself up with his hands.

The muscles deep in Sheppard’s body ripple pleasantly against Todd, though he is nowhere near finished yet, and he doesn’t let up, continuing his motions back and forth, Sheppard mewling soft sounds of near-overstimulation as he does so.

Todd wraps his arms more tightly around his lover, and he lifts John up and back so they’re both upright, Sheppard kneeling astride Todd’s lap as he sinks down further on Todd’s cock.

“Todd! Todd, I _can’t!”_

“You _can,”_ Todd says, kissing along John’s neck, carding clawed fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. He continues to move the two of them together, faster, and gradually John’s spent cock rises again. Sheppard’s mind is still suffused with desire, though his body struggles to keep up.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god… _”_ Sheppard moans as Todd thrusts up into him, head thrown back over Todd’s shoulder, clinging to Todd’s arms, eyes squeezed firmly shut.

Todd slides his right hand up Sheppard’s body, up the curve of his neck, thumbing along his bottom lip, and John opens his mouth, eagerly sucking on Todd’s digit. He uses his tongue not dissimilarly to how he’d done with Todd’s cock in his mouth, and the comparison does not slip Todd’s mind. He groans at the sensation.

Then John’s hand comes up to lace his fingers together with Todd’s hand from behind, and Sheppard positions the feeding slit at his mouth, kissing it, tonguing and sucking at it somewhat sloppily, and Todd’s rhythm stutters in response.

“ _Sheppard!”_ Todd finds the experience so startlingly hedonistic that for a moment, his mind goes blank and it’s all he can do to just ride out the sensation. He bites reflexively at the flesh between John’s shoulder and neck, maybe using just a bit more pressure than is kind. “ _Shepparrrd_ … Sheppard, _please!”_ Todd’s not entirely sure what he asking for, but he’s _close._ He feels that Sheppard is close again too, and he’s compelled to thrust more sharply up into John’s body. Todd brings his off hand to stroke along John’s cock, and then John is moaning against Todd’s palm, coming for a second time, which sets off Todd’s own release inside him.

Todd sags blissfully down onto his heels, holding Sheppard tightly to him. Sheppard’s fingers are still interlaced with Todd’s as he shifts them sideways to lay down in the grass, catching their breath from their dual exertion. Todd slips from John’s body, and Sheppard turns in his embrace to wrap his arms around him, clutching at his shoulders from behind and seeking as much skin-on-skin contact as possible. Todd very much enjoys the warmth of his lover’s sex-flushed body. The blood from John’s bite wound stains his hide scarlet, and Todd is irresistibly drawn to lap the metallic warmth from his skin.

“Mmm, god, how are you even real?” Sheppard murmurs dazedly into Todd’s neck as the Wraith begins to purr, but he’s asleep before Todd can even begin to formulate a response.

* * *

John dreams he is in a dense tropical forest. He has no idea at all how he came to be here, but he has a feeling that is drawing him in a particular direction along a well-travelled path through the lush vegetation. Everywhere there are insects and birds that gleam like living jewels among the trees, and the buzzing, chirping, ringing sounds they make seem to reverberate through every part of the forest — even through John himself.

He pushes past palm fronds and bromeliads into a small clearing and is startled to find himself grabbed from behind, snared by strong, wiry arms and grasping hands that stroke against his skin and card lovingly through his hair, and he relaxes into what he realizes is Todd’s embrace. He turns, and then Todd’s mouth is upon him as well, a narrower, more pointed tongue caressing his own, dangerous teeth that are oh so careful… He looks up into gleaming golden eyes that glitter through the hazy gloom of the forest’s humidity.

“ _Sheppard?”_ Todd’s voice seems more resonant than usual. “ _What are you doing here? How…?_ How _are you here?”_

John is momentarily hurt that Todd isn’t glad to see him, but then he takes another look around him. He really _can’t_ remember how he got here, and something about this place doesn’t seem quite entirely _real…_

“ _Are we — is this_ your _mind?”_

Todd nods, but he looks like he can’t quite believe it either. “ _I did not think this was possible.”_

“ _I thought I was dreaming.”_

Todd cocks his head, his gaze fixed intently on Sheppard. “ _Perhaps we both are…”_

“ _Huh.”_ John takes a moment to look around again, but when he turns back to Todd, the Wraith and his mind-forest are fading away.

* * *

John wakes with a yawn, stretching against Todd as he feels the delicious soreness in his body. Todd seems to be slower to escape from sleep, and Sheppard takes the opportunity to turn the tables on the Wraith. He tugs at Todd’s shoulder, so he’s lying on his stomach, and straddles his hips so the expanse of Todd’s back is laid out before him.

“Mmmm… Shepparrrd…” Todd purrs as John leans forward to nibble at an ear, and then suck at the skin just behind it. His fingers trail their way down the ridge of Todd’s spine, mouth following suit as he kisses along the vertebral spurs, sucking occasionally and tonguing the sensitive skin to either side.

Todd groans and his breathing quickens. As John works his way down to between Todd’s shoulder blades, Todd shivers, curling his back as his shoulders tense and the claws of his hands scrape against the ground.

“Turnabout is fair play,” Sheppard says in almost a sing-song voice.

Todd grins and turns his head to look over his shoulder at John. “Do your worst.”

“Oh, challenge _accepted,”_ John says, smirking. He runs his fingers down the grooved arc of Todd’s left elytron and lifts it gently, bending it up along its natural hinge with Todd’s hide, and he dips his head to press his mouth along that most sensitive strip of skin.

Todd throws his head back, giving a harmonic wail of pleasure as his hips buck and his clawed toes curl, slicing into the vegetation. Sheppard continues to alternate between licking and sucking at that sensitive skin, though the fingers of his other hand find their way beneath Todd’s other elytron, pressing at the same spot, and Todd makes a ragged keening sound that is music to John’s ears.

Sheppard adjusts himself so he’s sitting across Todd’s thighs instead of his hips, and he reaches beneath to find Todd’s cock is already hard and leaking pre-ejaculate. He strokes the smooth, ridged flesh, pleased at the desperate note Todd’s voice takes on as he does so, the Wraith thrusting eagerly into his hand. It’s a heady feeling, taking apart a being as ancient and formidable as Todd with essentially nothing but his mouth and his hands. He pumps his hand faster over Todd’s cock, and stretches up to bite high on Todd’s neck, just under his jaw.

“ _John!_ John, I’m going to —” And Todd comes, issuing a gravelly groan in his multi-tonal voice.

Sheppard shifts off of Todd, though Todd doesn’t let him go far, reaching an arm around him, snuggling into his chest and purring strongly. Sheppard’s own cock is half-hard against Todd’s belly, but his arousal is a lazy thing, presently, unencumbered by insistence and happy to revel in the feel of Todd’s satisfaction from where Todd’s mind touches his own, and the feel of Todd’s hair as John’s fingers comb through it.

Todd licks gently at the bite wound he’d left on Sheppard’s shoulder earlier. It’s long stopped bleeding, and is still a bit sore, but somehow the feel of Todd’s tongue is soothing. “Mmm, you humans may have utterly useless noses, but your mouths are lovely.”

Sheppard laughs. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t return the complement.” And he feels the warm reverberation of Todd’s answering laughter against his chest.

“Indeed.” He looks up at John and his expression becomes speculative. “Would that I could bring you pleasure in such a way, though I dread the thought that I would accidentally injure you.” And he rolls John onto his back, leaning partway over him, his hand lazily stroking along John’s skin.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you compensate in other ways,” John says, feeling Todd’s hand move south, breath hitching when long fingers wrap around his cock, stroking firmly. The intensity of Todd’s gaze is entirely focused on Sheppard, as if he is meticulously cataloguing every one of John’s responses, and this act suddenly feels more intimate than any they’ve previously engaged in. Sheppard can’t tear his eyes away from Todd’s, even as his hips thrust into the Wraith’s hand, and there’s no reason why feeling this exposed should turn him on this much. His lips are parted to accommodate his stilted breathing, and his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide with desire. He creeps his hands up Todd’s inhumanly smooth skin, grasping at broad shoulders from behind, attempting to ground himself in the solidity of Todd’s presence. “Kiss me,” he breathes, arching up as Todd’s thumb drags over the head of his cock, stroking faster now, and he feels his climax approaching _._

Todd’s lips barely brush against John’s and suddenly he surges upwards, pressing his mouth roughly against Todd’s and nicking his lip on Todd’s teeth in the process. He doesn’t care. After a moment, they find a rhythm that works for them both, though John gasps, wrenching his head away with a moan as he finally comes, Todd gentling his touch as Sheppard rides out his orgasm.

John collapses back down into the grass, breathing hard, hands clutching at Todd as the Wraith noses under his jaw and up the side of his face. Sheppard is tempted to ask him if he can smell an orgasm the same way he can smell fear or arousal.

He feels Todd’s hand leave him, and then Todd is licking John’s come from his fingers and John’s cock tries in vain to give any sort of interested twitch, but after three orgasms in such relatively quick succession, there’s not much chance of that.

“It seems there are many ways in which I find you delicious, John Sheppard,” Todd rasps with a shit-eating grin, and John’s laughter is startled out of him at the utter absurdity of the moment.

“Just so long as you know that Wraith are objectively tastier than humans,” John says sagely with a smirk. Todd chuckles as he finishes cleansing John’s skin of his issue.

Neither of them, it seems, are inclined to actually sleep, even for a short while, though they press in close to each other, relaxing in their mutual afterglow and filling their senses with the other. In a while, they will have to make their way back to the rest of the Hive and the ship, but for now it is pleasant to have no such demands on their time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the fruits mentioned so far are actually based on real Earth counterparts, so feel free to take a stab at guessing what they are! 
> 
> One in particular I only tried for the first time about a month ago, and I'm now officially obsessed. ;)


	14. I Go Walking in My Sleep, Through the Jungle of Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's talk about teeth, and touching, and telepathy, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your patience as my fall writing schedule is more limited than my summer. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to bagheerita for her terrific beta skills, and for helping keep the boys in line when they attempt to abscond into left field. ;)

The sun sits lower in the sky than it had when John and Todd first arrived in the field, and John knows their time here is drawing to a close. Evidently, Todd’s thoughts are similarly aligned, as he gives a full-bodied stretch, arching his back and yawning widely, treating Sheppard to an up-close view of his mouthful of sharp teeth.

John gives a sympathetic stretch of his own, pointing his toes and rolling the shoulder he’d been lying on, and he leverages himself up to lean over Todd, intent on snagging his boxers and BDUs from where he’d discarded them earlier. He pauses, suddenly wanting to investigate a thought he’d had previously, and he instead presses his mouth to Todd’s, and Todd makes a happy, welcoming sound in return. John runs his tongue all along the base of Todd’s teeth, reaching far into the back of Todd’s mouth, but he’s not as careful as he thinks and in his explorations he nicks his tongue on the razor sharp points, jerking back with a yelp.

“Are you alright?” Todd asks, sitting up, and John doesn’t miss the way his pupils dilate briefly as he licks human blood from his lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing major,” John assures him, and though he can taste the iron of his own blood in his mouth, he realizes it’s less than he’d initially thought. He quickly dons his clothes and then kisses Todd again, more carefully, as he reaches for his boots.

“Wraith don’t have molars, do you?” John asks as he pulls his boots back on and laces them up.

“No.” Todd grins, showing nearly all of his pointed teeth. “Not all creatures require their food to be so thoroughly masticated prior to digestion,” he says, and John feels like this is a dig at humans, specifically.

“No, of course, much better to choke on your food as you’re swallowing it,” he says sarcastically. Todd huffs in amusement as he shrugs back into his long armoured coat.

“We make do,” he says. “Though while we are discussing such things, I would know what subject had you so bothered earlier, just before we left the village.”

The two of them begin to make their way back to the orchard where they’d parted with Roslin, Slash, and Talon, heading back into the forest to retrace their route.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Sheppard begins. “It’s probably just some human-Wraith cultural divide or something…”

“Yes?”

John sighs. “I don’t like that no one touches Roslin. Except me. I’m the only one. And I know she likes it — she initiates it, more often than not — but I think she wants it from other Wraith too. I see her looking at you, sometimes… She’s always in everyone’s space.” He thinks about how he’d misinterpreted the physicality of her affection for flirtation that one time in the dart bay.

Todd is quiet for a moment, and Sheppard suspects this isn’t the first time Todd’s considered this topic. “I do not think it is stupid. I suspect I may actually agree with you.”

“I’ve never seen you touch her once!”

Todd sighs. “Young queens are typically raised by their progenitor queens and their keepers, and do not usually have contact with males until they are ready to mate. I admit I am a bit… out of my depth, perhaps, when it comes to shaping a mind that is naturally so much stronger than my own. I do not want to do this badly. Do you realize that I’ve known you longer than I have known her?”

John’s eyes widen.

“I may have spent more time with her recently, though I only learned I even _had_ a daughter after parting ways with you after we first met.”

“So what, you’re not comfortable yet with her?”

“I am concerned she may not yet be comfortable with _me.”_

John laughs and Todd looks fairly insulted at that. But John shakes his head. “Todd, she _adores_ you. I don’t know why you can’t see it.”

Todd’s expression is nebulous. Perhaps his skepticism is getting in the way of his willingness to believe John’s words. “I think you confuse her adoration of _me_ with _you_.”

Sheppard scoffs. “I’m the new, different thing in her life right now — of course she thinks I’m fun and interesting. But she’ll get bored of me after a while. Kids are like that.”

“I think you are wrong.”

“Well, I think _you’re_ wrong.”

“Then I suppose we shall both be wrong together,” Todd says, leaping across the shallow stream while Sheppard trudges though it.

As they progress further through the forest Todd walks beneath a gap in the canopy where the sunlight breaks through the foliage, illuminating a dappled pattern over his silvery white hair, and John is reminded of a very different forest in which he’d last encountered Todd.

“You know how when you visit me in my mind, the landscape, or I guess my ‘mindscape’, looks like Atlantis?”

“Yes.”

“Does your mindscape take the form of a jungle?”

Todd freezes. Then he turns to Sheppard and his eyes are narrowed. “How could you possibly know that?”

“So, I’m right?”

It’s a moment before Todd replies. “Yes.”

“I had a dream,” John begins. “After you… When we fell asleep in the field… I dreamed I was in a jungle and then you were there, and you were wondering how I had gotten there in the first place. You said you didn’t think it was even possible for me to be there.”

“It should not have been,” Todd agrees. He steps closer and fixes Sheppard with a puzzling stare. “I had the very same dream.”

“What? How is _that_ possible?”

“I do not know.” Todd looks more closely at Sheppard. “You are _sure_ you are entirely human?”

“ _Yeah,”_ Sheppard says indignantly. Then he pauses. “I mean, as far as I know… I didn’t know I had the Ancient gene until just before we came to Atlantis about five years ago. Why? What would I have to be to explain that happening?”

“Part Wraith,” Todd says darkly. “Though, that should not be possible either, given that you were born outside this galaxy.”

Something cold runs up Sheppard’s spine, and he’s hesitant to give voice to the terrifying thought that spawns in his consciousness, because if he says it then it becomes a real possibility, and he doesn’t think he can go through that again. “What about part Iratus?” he says quietly.

Todd blinks. “Iratus do have a sort of telepathic hive mind, and our telepathy is derived from the common ancestor we share with them.” He furrows his brow ridge. “Does this relate to when you mentioned metamorphosing into a part-Iratus creature?”

But John only partly hears him. He’s staring at his hands, frantically stripping off his jacket to inspect his arms, particularly the site at which Ellia originally infected him with the retrovirus. He thankfully doesn’t see any traces of blue in his skin, though Todd is staring at him with worry. “Quick, is there any blue on my face? My neck?”

Todd cradles John’s head in his hands, tilting his face to each side. “I see nothing that is cause for alarm.”

“Oh, thank god.” Sheppard grips Todd's wrists and leans his forehead against Todd’s chest. Gradually his frantic breathing slows.

“Perhaps the experience left you with a more intangible remnant of the Iratus,” Todd speculates, brushing his thumb over Sheppard’s forehead.

“What, like a tiny bit of telepathy? How do we test for that?” John asks. Maybe it’s his experience thus far with Todd’s telepathy, but he can’t bring himself to be as worried about such a potentiality as he is either of a repeated physical transformation, or of losing himself mentally to Iratus instincts.

Todd shakes his head. “I have no idea. Perhaps we do nothing, for now, and wait to see if the phenomenon repeats itself.”

“Fine, but sometimes weird shit pops into my dreams, so no judgement, okay?”

“ _You_ entered into _my_ dream,” Todd says. “Normally, I would count that as being a very good dream.”

Sheppard grins even as he rolls his eyes. “Come on, Casanova,” he says, fully aware he’s going to have to explain that reference to Todd. And he shakes his head to himself in good humour as they resume their trek through the forest.

* * *

When they reunite with the rest of their party in the orchard, Roslin is fast asleep, curled up snugly between Talon and Slash, who are reclined side-by-side against the broad trunk of what must be a very old apple tree. The fingers of her one hand are curled around an uneaten apple, while her face is pressed into the side of Slash’s ribs, her scarlet tresses fanned across his armour. Sheppard can’t help but grin at the oddly adorable picture of domesticity the three of them make.

“Commander. Colonel Sheppard,” Talon acknowledges softly as they approach, so as not to wake Roslin.

“How soon do we have to leave? Can we let her sleep a bit?” John asks.

Todd cants his head to the side and is overcome by that vacant expression that Sheppard knows means he’s communicating telepathically at a distance. “The drones are waiting with our supplies,” he says after a moment. “We really should be on our way.” He crouches down, leaning over Roslin, and to John’s amazement he lays a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. If Talon or Slash are shocked by this at all, they don’t show it. “Dear one,” he says softly. “ _Meomnia…_ We must be on our way.”

Roslin rouses slowly, blinking up at Todd and grinning as she throws her arms around his neck, forcing him to pick her up as he stands.

Todd’s expression is a bit like a fish out of water as he straightens, contemplating holding his daughter in his arms, but he shakes it off after a moment and begins heading back to the transport ship with John, Talon, and Slash in tow.

Sheppard shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles to himself as he walks beside Todd, glancing over discreetly to see that Roslin has fallen asleep again, her head resting on Todd’s shoulder. He notices Slash and Talon looking on fondly as well, and he drops back a bit to pick their brains. “I’d have thought most Wraith would be more bothered by the whole ‘hands on a queen’ thing, but you guys don’t seem to be, unless I’m reading this wrong?”

“You are correct in your observations, Colonel Sheppard,” Talon says. “We Wraith are social creatures and interpersonal touch is a fundamental necessity to our well-being. The Commander’s progeny is no exception, though in the absence of contact with her progenitor queen, she must sadly make do with that of male Wraith. The taboo against doing so does not necessarily sit well with all of us in all circumstances.”

“I’m glad,” Sheppard says honestly. “Humans are social too, though I think we’re a bit more selective in who we’re comfortable with having in our personal space. Even still, having everyone around you be prohibited from touching you?” He sighs and looks down at his feet. “It’s a very lonely thought.”

“That it is,” says Slash, his voice softer and more rasping than Talon’s, and though he moves very inconspicuously, John still catches the motion of his left hand as it curls along the back of Talon’s right hand, lacing their fingers together.

Sheppard barely keeps from suppressing a smile.

* * *

When they reach the place where they’d disembarked from the transport craft, John’s eyes go wide at the sheer amount of assorted fruits that have been gathered in stacks of crates taller than he is. He’s skeptical that the amount of produce assembled before them would fit within the space of Atlantis’ main atrium, even.

“Uhh, no way in hell is all of that gonna fit inside the shuttle, even if the rest of us weren’t aboard.”

Todd turns slightly and his expression is faintly amused. “Of course not. None of that will be transported aboard the shuttle,” he says.

“What do you mean? How’s it gonna get back aboard the hive ship?” Sheppard is understandably confused.

“Look _up,”_ Todd says, and Sheppard does, realizing the sound of darts grows louder as a squadron of fighters approaches. There are about ten of them, and they each sweep over the grouping of crates, beaming up a swath of them into their buffers as they fly past, continuing afterwards back up to the hive.

“Well, I’ve gotta say, that’s a much cooler use for them than I typically get to see.”

“Mmm, I would imagine so.”

“How do you keep it all from going bad?” John asks, fairly sure that he’s never seen any sort of refrigeration devices anywhere on any hive ship.

Todd chuckles. “We do not bother rematerializing what we do not intend to use right away. Material held in the buffer is essentially in stasis.”

“Cool.”

Todd rouses Roslin somewhat awkwardly, standing her on the ground before explaining he has to go speak with the colony leaders. She nods groggily and then moves to wrap her arms around John, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around her in return.

“I feel ya, kiddo,” John says, grinning. “I could go for a nap too, when we get back to the ship.”

* * *

Afterwards, once the darts have retrieved and carefully stored away all of their supplies, and their party of Wraith and drones are all back aboard the hive ship, Todd delivers an already-sleeping Roslin to the nest within her quarters before leaving the bridge in the capable hands of his Second. By the time he makes his way to his own quarters, he finds that Sheppard is already deep in slumber, sprawled among the comforts of Todd’s own nest, his back to the wall, having left more than enough room for Todd to join him. Even removed from their exertions of the day, Todd finds he would be hard-pressed to pass up such an implicit invitation, and he removes his boots and his coat before seating himself on the edge of the alcove.

He takes a moment to observe Sheppard: the man is curled on his side with his arms tucked before him, one hand by his face, the other folded almost against his shoulder. Todd rests his hand lightly along Sheppard’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his form with each breath, and a dark part of his mind wonders whether he was inexplicably drawn to Sheppard because of some nearly imperceptible trace of Iratus still in his system. But no — Todd dismisses such a thought as quickly as it is manifested. Sheppard is _Sheppard,_ and the quirks that make him thus are so far beyond the Iratus as to be laughable. Todd can no more qualify whether he favours Sheppard’s stubbornness or his adaptability. Does he prefer John’s defiance that had once tasted so sweet, or his sense of honour? His dry wit, or his bravery? Todd supposes it must take incredible bravery for a human to consider engaging in such relations with a Wraith. He cannot for the life of him pinpoint exactly what it is about Sheppard that captivates him so, though he has long since concluded that such specifics are irrelevant. It is simply enough that Sheppard seems to have carved out a space for himself within Todd’s mind.

Todd considers that this sentiment may be more literal than he’d once thought, given Sheppard’s dreamtime appearance within Todd’s own mindscape. He shifts his hand to John’s cheek, and then his fingers are sliding up into dark hair. Sheppard sighs but doesn’t wake, though he does arch slightly into Todd’s touch. He hopes John is correct in supposing that it is his time with the Iratus that is responsible for this new occurrence, though if it is capable of imparting this ability, Todd wonders if John might be unknowingly affected still in other ways.

Todd withdraws his hand and lowers himself to the nest, insinuating his body alongside Sheppard’s. He contemplates how best to fit the two of them more closely together without waking Sheppard, though perhaps Sheppard senses Todd’s presence because he reaches an arm clumsily around Todd, presses his face into Todd’s neck, and clutches his fingers into the silk of Todd’s tunic. Todd grins, happy to surrender himself into his lover’s embrace, relaxing into pillows and blankets and _John._ He closes his eyes, rests his mind softly against Sheppard’s, and muses idly as to whether he will receive another dreamtime visitor.

* * *

The next morning, John wakes before Todd does, pressing his face into silvery hair and inhaling the scent of petrichor Todd exudes. Suddenly, something occurs to him, and he chuckles to himself, wondering exactly how this particular turn of phrase hadn’t popped into his head sooner.

Todd rouses then, arms tightening around Sheppard’s body, as he noses under Sheppard’s jaw. “What could you possibly find so amusing at this moment?”

Sheppard grins. “You’re a silver fox,” he says.

“I beg your pardon?”

Sheppard chuckles again, though his expression turns a bit sheepish. “So, you know how as humans age, our hair tends to turn grey and then white?”

Todd nods.

“Well, on Earth, if a man starts to go grey and is still fairly attractive, we tend to say he’s a ‘silver fox’. But, since your name is ‘Todd’, and, well…” John runs his fingers through Todd’s white tresses, grinning. “You’re a silver fox.”

Todd still looks nonplussed, but gradually his expression becomes indulgent. “You Earth humans are very odd.”

John simply chuckles again, murmuring, “ _My_ silver fox,” and goes willingly as Todd attempts to snuggle the both of them back into the bedding. They end up in an arrangement that reminds John vaguely of that second night in Varan’s prison: him lying on his back with Todd pressed all along his side, head pillowed on John’s chest and arm wrapped around him. _Unlike_ their initial arrangement, Todd’s leg is also thrown over one of Sheppard’s, and John knows it would take very little to get him interested in more than simply cuddling.

“Is it typical for Wraith to sleep this much?” he asks, perhaps more than a touch of concern in his voice as his hand soothes up and down Todd’s arm. “You sleep with me almost every night, though we were always under the impression that Wraith didn’t need nearly as much sleep as humans do.”

Todd makes a slightly put-upon sound. “It has been a long time since my last hibernation,” he begins. “You are correct that I would require only a fraction of the rest I currently partake in, were I more recently rejuvenated from the deep sleep of hibernation, though I do find I enjoy sleeping with you nearly as much as I do _sleeping_ with you.” He smiles toothily at Sheppard, having picked up the tonal inflection of human euphemisms perfectly, and John grins both from flattery and amusement.

“ _Todd,”_ he chastises lightly. “If you need to hibernate, you shouldn’t let me stop you.”

But Todd is adamant. “Sheppard, when we hibernate, we do so typically for centuries at a time. I would much prefer the inconvenience of more regular sleep to waking fully rejuvenated, only to find you gone from the world.”

“Todd…” That overwhelming warmth is back in John’s chest, and he cups the side of Todd’s face in his hand, hoping his touch can convey what he lacks the words to do.

Todd’s expression is warm, though simultaneously playful. “Truly, it is not that much of a hardship, sleeping extra hours away with you.” He gestures flimsily to the two of them together in his nest. “Behold, how I suffer.”

John laughs, though his fingers are compelled to continue tracing the sharp features of Todd’s face from where his chin is perched on John’s chest. Todd’s eyes slide shut as Sheppard’s fingers follow along the ridge of his brow, down to cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. He waves his thumb in front of one of Todd’s sensory pits, feeling the twitch of clawed fingers against his ribs as he does so, and then tracing the skin around the orifice to watch it dilate and contract. “These are for temperature, right?”

“Mmm, mainly, yes. They are most sensitive to mammalian heat signatures, though they are also tied into our vomeronasal receptors, and can pick up chemical cues as well, such as scents, pheromones, etcetera.”

Curiously, John leans forward to press a kiss directly overtop of one of Todd’s sensory pits, flicking his tongue out against it, but Todd instantly flinches away.

“Too much, too much!” he hisses.

“Sorry,” John says, soothing the skin around the pit with his fingers when Todd rests his head against him again.

“Mm.” Todd’s eyes seem filled with longing as he gazes at Sheppard, but there’s a tightness to his mouth that betrays his uncertainty.

“What is it?”

Todd shakes his head, and Sheppard isn’t sure if the gesture is in dismissal of his query or simply Todd reorienting himself. “We are nearing the point at which we will be within transmission range, should you wish to contact Atlantis in advance of our arrival.”

“Really? How soon?” John can’t help but be excited at the prospect of speaking with his people. He wants to know his team is okay; let them know that he’s okay as well. He hopes Woolsey won’t be too miffed that he’s effectively bringing a Wraith hive ship with him, but he’s been MIA for long enough that protocol prohibits the lowering of the shield to allow him to return via Stargate. And though he’s loosened up considerably since John first met him, Woolsey is nothing if not a stickler for protocol. Idly, John wonders which of either Major Lorne or Colonel Caldwell has stepped in as acting Military Commander in his absence. He hopes it’s Lorne; he and Evan have always worked well together, and he anticipates a smoother transition back to normalcy than if Caldwell is involved. John doesn’t dislike Caldwell, though it’s no secret the colonel was gunning for John’s job title at one point. And he’s not especially looking forward to having to make peace between Woolsey, Caldwell, and Todd, given the events of their most recent encounter. He suspects Caldwell in particular will consider it a point of professional embarrassment that Todd was able to hijack his ship out from under him.

“Within the next few hours, perhaps,” Todd says, after consulting telepathically with one of his Hive. Probably Kenny, Sheppard supposes. After a moment, Todd clears his throat awkwardly. “You have yet to ask your favour of me, John. I did promise you.”

Sheppard looks up at him dumbly. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

Todd sighs. “When you invited me into your mind,” he says, touching his mental presence to that spot in the back of John’s mind. “I promised you anything it was within my power to give. You have yet to make a request.”

John simply stares. He’d forgotten entirely about that, though he was admittedly just as uncomfortable with Todd’s offer then as he is now. “I… I don’t really want anything,” he says, and his words sound lame even to his own ears.

Todd does not look convinced. “Nonsense. There must be something I can offer you. Coordinates to worlds with landed hives — easy targets for infiltration or destruction? One of our fighters for you to fly or reverse engineer?” He pauses for a moment and then says, “A zero-point module?”

John has to admit those are indeed tempting proposals, the latter two more so than the former, but he makes a point of halting Todd in his tracks when it seems he’s going to continue offering things. “Todd, _stop.”_ He props himself up so that he’s sitting more than lying in Todd’s bed, and Todd follows suit. “I — I, sure, a ZPM would be fantastic, but I didn’t invite you into my head with that specific outcome in mind. I can’t… I can’t accept that.” But his words still sound somewhat unconvincing.

“It was an implicit agreement,” Todd says. “I made you the offer. Will you not allow me to honour it?”

“ _No.”_ John looks him in the eyes. “I invited you in because I wanted to, not as some sort of bargain. You were the one who got upset when you thought I was only being kind to you because you’d said you wouldn’t feed on me. Remember? You asked if my kindness was ‘transactional.’ _Now_ who’s being transactional?” Todd looks appropriately stricken, and John lets that sink in for a moment. “I did it because I wanted to. Because you were hurting and I wanted to make it stop. Don’t cheapen that by insisting I be paid for my services.”

“I apologize,” Todd says. “That was not my intention. Of course I am grateful for everything you have done.” He looks away for a moment, and then meets John’s gaze once more. “You are sure…?” He lets the unasked question hang in the air between them, once he’s met with John’s adamant stare. John suspects it’s Todd’s innate sense of honour that just won’t let him leave this alone.

Not for the first time, John has to question his sanity, turning down the offer of a ZPM — a ZPM! — that could solve Atlantis’ power consumption issues for the foreseeable future. They’d be able to power the shields, cloak, drones, and anything else they needed to the point that they could all simply relax for a moment the next time some threat reared its head.

“You are conflicted,” Todd says, and John marvels at how well the Wraith has learned to read him.

“Of course I’m conflicted — you just offered me a ZPM! Do you know how badly we could use one of those?”

“I have an inkling.” Todd simply looks at him, canting his head to the side as if Sheppard is a particularly frustrating puzzle. “It is yours should you wish it.”

“I _can’t.”_ Sheppard suspects his misery is written all over his face. “I’d be _using_ you.”

“I assure you, I do not share that opinion.”

“But _I’d_ still feel that way!”

Todd sighs. “You used to be more mercenary than this, John Sheppard. What has happened to you?”

“I met _you,”_ John mutters accusingly. “And then I spent a week trying to teach ethics to sadists while making sure they didn’t kill my friend.” Todd gives a sad smile as he nuzzles into John’s hair.

“Very well, I will not mention it again.”

“Good,” John says. “Though maybe there’s one thing you _can_ give me.”

“And what is that?”

John grins slyly. “A kiss.”

This time the smile that spreads across Todd’s face is one of pure delight. “You are the most ridiculous creature,” he marvels, and he wastes no time in delivering on Sheppard’s request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to comment, if you're able! Comments keep me going and I love hearing readers' feedback!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Love in the long grass (John/Todd)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081509) by [picturae (Eos_x)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eos_x/pseuds/picturae)




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